Harry Potter, Revan's Heir
by Dark.Force.Light
Summary: Rewrite of Harry Potter and the Old Republic. Upon Revan's death, he does not become one with the Force. Instead, he and his long-time friend, Meetra, arrive on Earth and experiences a chance encounter with Harry Potter. Awaken, Harry Potter, Revan's Heir.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Star Wars.

So, this is the first chapter of my Harry Potter X Star Wars rewrite. As stated in my notice in the other story, some things will be carried over and some will not.

Beta'd by HowInMadHowie.

+-*/

Chapter 1: Revan's Heir

+- Yavin IV*/

Revan couldn't keep the frown on his face as the Temple of Sacrifice burst with Force energy that rose to the sky. This was what he was afraid of and he had hoped that these chosen champions and the allied Republic and Imperial forces would've stopped it before it was too late. Unfortunately, it was indeed too late and the Sith Emperor was fully revived and would be free to ravage the galaxy once more.

As the energy rose and vanished past the sky and into the unknown galaxy, Revan looked down at his other half, the physical manifestation of his dark side, the side that refused to become one with the Force and instead sustained himself like that Darth Sion fellow from long ago for as long as he had purpose; his current purpose being to kill the Sith Emperor once and for all.

That idea went quite well, if Revan had to say so himself. Nevertheless, the natural order of things should be followed and he had to be reunited with his darker half. It was very, very simple and very, very quick.

The reformed Revan turned to look at the aforementioned champions and allied forces. They looked just as worried as he did. He gave them some words of encouragement for the inevitable, for the times ahead. He had faith in them; they had proven themselves powerful enough to challenge him twice: first, at the Foundry, and second, here at the Temple of Sacrifice.

Granted, he wasn't at his strongest both times but they still had considerable might nonetheless. He briefly wondered what would've happened if he was indeed at his strongest either time. Putting aside the 'what ifs,' he gave them some final words before he finally vanished from their sight.

But he wouldn't be becoming one with the Force completely just yet.

No. He had one last project to start and cultivate and nurture before he would join his wife in the Force.

+-*/

Revan's form reappeared on the sidewalk of a city on a seemingly different planet. The indigenous human population ignored his presence as they continued to go about their business, talking with each other in person, talking through a small comlink device held up to their ear, dining in cafes, working on their datapad-looking devices, driving in their enclosed, wheeled automotive vehicles, and so on.

"This place has changed," he mused as he looked around at the buildings, "Not by much in comparison to the whole galaxy but it has changed nonetheless." His ghostly form started to walk along the streets, idly glancing at the changes around him. As he rounded a corner, he stopped in mid-step and raised a brow. "Meetra," he softly greeted, "You should be one with the Force; finally at peace."

"So should you." The frown on the face of his fellow Force ghost was filled with confusion, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Instead, you're in an unknown, primitive planet that's somehow just as full of life as Nar Shaddaa."

Revan smiled as he approached Meetra. "This planet may be one of the most primitive planets in the galaxy but it has many, many secrets." He spread his arms wide, gesturing at the bustling street. "If you would rather stay with me instead of becoming one with the Force, then come with me. I'll show you this planet unknowing of the troubles of its galaxy called Earth."

+-*/

"Back during my reign as Darth Revan, back when I had control over the Star Forge, I spent most of my time studying it and its records while it produced the fleet I would eventually use against the Jedi and the Republic. During my research, I came across the records of worlds that the Rakatans had enslaved on their road to become the powerful Infinite Empire," Revan explained.

"I highly doubt that this planet was even remotely civilized during the time of the Infinite Empire." Meetra shook her head as she looked at the world around her.

"Of course not. However, this planet had a rich ecosystem and a weak human populace that the Rakatans were always more than happy to take advantage of, for their empire and their beloved Star Forge. In the time between Malak and I found the Star Forge and the Battle of Foerost, I started on a few projects with the Star Forge: I left a small fragment on Nar Shaddaa, where I tasked a few slaves to care for it; I tested its gravity beam, known only to me, on a few ships that the Forge manufactured; I created some original devices with it, aside from its usual droids and ships; and so on. In addition, I resolved to visit some of the planets documented in its records and see its worth to my Empire."

"And that's when you came to this…Earth," Meetra asked.

"Yes. Earth was one of the planets I visited. To my immense disappointment, Earth wasn't as technologically advanced as the rest of the galaxy. However, upon closer study, I discovered that the planet instead progressed in their use of the Force. The records stated that Earth had not learned how to use the Force at all and so I was curious about it. They named their use of the Force as magic and has long since been found and built upon, to the point that there are innumerable creatures born from magic all over the planet."

"Did you try to learn their magic," she asked with an intrigued tone.

Revan sighed. "As much as I wanted to, I didn't have the time. Instead, I took some of the devices I had the Star Forge create for me and hid them all throughout the planet before I left to investigate the other planets."

"Isn't that dangerous? If this planet is truly unknowing of the greater galaxy, has little in terms of technology, and views the Force as magic, it's not smart to leave these devices for just anyone to find," she warned.

"I'm hurt, Meetra; I thought you think better of me. I'm no fool. I didn't just leave them out in the open. Neither did I make it easy for them to even find. The holocrons, the datapads, the Star Forge devices; all of them. Only the most powerful and skilled of their kind can even sense their presence. Even then, only the determined can find them, uncover them, and study them to their fullest potential. To be honest, I had planned to revisit this planet once the war was over and I had fully settled and shared this knowledge with Bastila but…well…you know the rest, Meetra."

"Yes…yes, I do." Meetra smiled sadly, indeed remember how that ended.

+-*/

As night has fallen, the pair of Force ghosts found themselves in a quiet suburb of houses.

"Is…is it natural for the inhabitants of this planet to leave mere infants on doorsteps?" Meetra couldn't keep the astonished look from her face as she knelt over the sleeping form of a baby. Indeed, the baby was sleeping soundly on the doorstep of one of the dreadfully dull houses along the street named Privet Drive.

"No," Revan replied coolly, "No, it's not. From my experience in this planet before, people only leave children on doorsteps if the parents can't raise their child for the most extreme of reasons: they're in poverty, they don't want this child, and the like."

"Poor child," she quietly muttered as she gently caressed the child's cheek and looked up at Revan. "I can feel a dark presence in his scar."

"The Force has been carelessly used in this country recently," Revan mused as he looked around, "These…magicians," he grimaced, "Must have had some cause for their reckless and public behavior despite them wanting to stay hidden from the mundane populace."

"And you think it's related to this one's scar?" Meetra asked with a raised brow as she looked back down at the infant.

"That's the only explanation." Revan frowned as he took a closer look at the child. "No one is born with a scar on the forehead and no one is definitely born with an entity of the dark side within them."

Meetra stopped fussing over the child and turned to Revan. "Should we investigate?"

He shook his head. "No. Whatever it is has passed. We will find out what happened in time and if it will come back in the future. Right now, we have more pressing matters, namely, the boy."

She pursed her lips as she stared at him. "What are you planning, Revan?"

Revan looked back down at the slumbering infant, a small smile forming on his scarred face. "I will train this boy. My original intent was to check on my hidden relics. If even one was found, I would've spent some time finding the person who discovered it and train him or her. But, now, I changed my mind. A blank slate lies before us: a child with an interesting past. And I'm sure he'll have an interesting future. So, I'm going to train this child as my apprentice."

Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "What about your hidden items?"

"Oh, I'll look for them, don't mistake that. However, I won't split my attention between the ones who may or may not have found them and this boy. If I find that the relics have been taken and studied, I'll look for the discoverers on my free time."

"What will you do if you find them since you won't be training them?" Meetra crossed her arms with a raised brow in challenge. "Will you tell him?"

Revan looked almost amused. "We spent time learning under the same master, Meetra. I'll tell him all that he needs to know: that I placed relics in this planet and that some may or may not have been found, taken, and studied. I won't hand him all the answers by telling him who found them and where they are."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course," she sarcastically stated. "How could I forget?" She stared at him. "What do you hope to achieve by this? What is your endgame, your goal, by either training this boy or letting Earth's inhabitants find your holocrons and relics?"

"I wanted to have one last apprentice before I pass on. More than that, I wanted to see what a magician apprentice could do, what this world could do with the Force." He turned to Meetra. "What you've heard about magic in the galaxy at large are almost always of the dark side. I want to break that mold and have an apprentice using the light side, or at least a balance of light and dark side of the Force through this world's magic." He smirked. "What do you say? Will you join me, Meetra?"

She looked from Revan to the slumbering child and nodded. "Yes, yes, I will. Let this child be our last apprentice, our last, great apprentice."

Revan smiled. "Wonderful," he exclaimed. "Now, all that's left is for the boy to grow to the point where he can see us and comprehend his potential." He then frowned as he looked at the door behind him he muttered in distaste. "Now, if only whoever left him here had the decency to at least wake this house's inhabitants about the child they left on their doorstep..."

+-*/

Nearly ten years had passed since Revan and Meetra decided to remain with the young boy on the doorstep but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the horizon and its light pierced through the windows of Number Four and into one particular bedroom on the second floor.

The aforementioned young boy, Harry Potter, slept soundly in his bed but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her knock on the door that made the first noise of the day.

"Wake up, Harry. Breakfast is ready."

Emerald eyes slowly opened at her voice. He slowly sat up as he reached for his glasses from his bedside table. Putting them on, he swung his legs off his bed before standing up.

His aunt knocked on the door again. "Harry, are you up?"

"Yes," he replied as he stretched, "Just got out of bed."

"Okay. Your breakfast is ready downstairs," she repeated as she started to move away from his door.

"Yes," repeated Harry as he changed from his pyjamas to his casual clothes, "Thank you, Aunt Petunia."

The sound of an affirmative hum reached his ears from far away. Down the stairs, he mused as he opened his bedroom door. However, he didn't step out to the hallway just yet as a large human missile whizzed past his door.

He heard the missile exclaim as it went down the stairs, "OhIDidn'tSeeYouThere!SorryHarry!"

Sighing in amusement, he finally left his bedroom and closed the door, heading down the stairs and into the kitchen. Opening the door to the kitchen, Harry beheld the sight of his uncle, one of the largest men he had ever known, being a few times larger than he was, seated by the table, his face hidden behind an open newspaper. His aunt, a woman thinner than he was, was busy tending to the food cooking on the stove. And his cousin, almost as large as his uncle, was standing by a huge pile of presents, counting them one by one, his face slightly sweating as he breathed heavily from his run downstairs.

Aunt Petunia eventually turned to Harry and smiled at him, gesturing to the table with her head. "Your breakfast's on the table, Harry."

Returning the smile with one of his own, he headed towards the table and started to eat, just as Dudley sat on the other chair across the table, a proud look on his face.

"Thirty-six," he uttered, "Nice."

The newspaper was lowered and his uncle's pudgy face turned to the pile of presents, his bushy mustache twitching slightly. "You forgot Marge's, Dudley. It's underneath that one there."

Dudley grinned wider, "Thirty-seven, then!"

"Little tyke knows what he wants!" His uncle roared with laughter as he slammed his hands on Dudley's shoulder. "That a boy, Dudley!"

Harry withheld a snort as father and son had a moment. After finishing his breakfast Harry stood from his seat and moved his plate from the table to the sink.

"Harry," his aunt called his attention, making him turn to her as she sat at the table, "Are you sure you don't want to come with us to the zoo for Dudley's birthday?"

Smiling at her, he shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, Aunt Petunia, but I'm sure." He casually waved his hand at them. "You three should enjoy Dudley's birthday without me. I'll be fine here."

All three slowly nodded, their eyes glossing over briefly, as Aunt Petunia replied, "Yes. We three should enjoy Dudley's birthday without you. You'll be fine here."

His smile widened as he turned to clean his plate and put it away before leaving his relatives in the kitchen.

Within the hour, Harry found himself wishing his relatives an enjoyable birthday at the zoo.

"Remember, Harry," his uncle reminded him, "keep the doors locked and don't open for strangers."

Smiling, Harry nodded at them. "Of course, Uncle Vernon, I'll keep myself safe in this house."

"Too right, you will," he ruffled Harry's hair, much to his slight annoyance, Harry watched as his uncle entered his car. The car rumbled to life as Uncle Vernon reversed from their driveway and onto the main road before driving off. As their car vanished around the corner, Harry turned around and headed into the house.

A voice greeted Harry as he came back inside, "Have they left?"

Harry nodded as he closed and locked the door before heading towards the living room. "They have. They probably won't be home until the afternoon." His smile widened. "Now, we have the entire day to ourselves."

Revan, leaning by the wall with arms crossed, gave him a nod and Meetra, seated on the couch with her hands folded on her lap, smiled at Harry, their ghostly forms becoming more visible as Harry approached them.

Eagerly, he looked at both of them. "So, what are we up to today?"

Meetra answered him, "Start with your meditation." She gestured to the room they're in. "The living room is your current playground."

"After your meditation," Revan finished, "then, you can go do your exercises."

At the mention of exercises, Harry brightened up. "Can I practice my swordsmanship as well?"

Chuckling, Revan nodded. "Of course you can. But don't forget to practice it safely."

Harry nodded vigorously. "Of course, master! I'll be careful!" He started doing a few stretches as he walked to the center of the living room. He idly waved his hand in the direction of the living room window and the curtains closed, blocking sight from anyone outside. Afterwards, he sat down on the floor, his legs crossed and his hands on top of his legs. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths.

Within seconds, he started to levitate off the ground, his face calm and his breathing soft. Then, the furniture slowly rose with him, starting with the couch and table near him. Meetra didn't even look unperturbed and instead was smiling as she remained attached to the floating couch. Soon, all the furniture in the room that wasn't nailed or firmly secured to the wall, floor, or ceiling levitated around him. The smaller items even spun around him as he meditated.

From his position on the wall, Revan's lips curled into a smile as he watched his apprentice meditate.

Yes. Harry Potter would be his last project to cultivate and nurture and release into this world before he would join his wife in the Force.

+-*/

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…_

_Savior, conqueror, hero, villain. The man who is all things and yet is nothing had been challenged since he had been born. He'd been through countless wars and lived through far more than what he should have. His next challenge brought him to the jungle moon of Yavin IV, where he intended to bring to light a hidden enemy to bring him down once and for all._

_However, a small coalition from two opposing factions, the Galactic Republic and the Sith Empire, rose and formed to challenge him. They thwarted his plans over and over and over until it all came together on a Yavin temple he needed to bring out his foe._

_He fought tooth and nail against the coalition before he eventually fell and lay vanquished before them. Now, at the end of it all, he saw clearly what he had become. As he finally passed the torch to the coalition to deal with what was to come, he moved on to an unknown planet, where he would train one last apprentice to make a lasting mark on this world. Awaken…_

+-*/

Read and Review.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Star Wars.

Beta'd by HowInMadHowie.

+-*/

Chapter 2: Welcome to the Wizarding World

+-*/

It was the summer holidays and Harry, having finished primary school with Dudley from St. Grogory's Primary School. Harry spent most of his time training. It had nothing to do with summer schoolwork at all and more to do with the Force, as instructed by Revan and Meetra.

When he wasn't training, he would go out and take a walk. Privet Drive, while its design was boring and monotonous and its people weren't the best sort, nevertheless it had decent parks. He always felt at peace whenever he visited the parks; he would close his eyes and meditate as he sat on the benches, centering himself in the Force, with no one to distract him. If he wouldn't be called a weirdo for doing so, he would've done some yoga or trained in his katas until he was tired.

Oh well. It wasn't a complete loss; he still had two places where he could train: his bedroom, whenever the Dursleys were home, and the living room, whenever the Dursleys weren't home. While not as peaceful as a park, it still served his purposes well enough.

After one such meditation in the park, Harry went back home and knocked on the door. It opened to reveal his Aunt Petunia, who waved him inside. "Ah, there you are, Harry," she greeted, "You're just in time for breakfast."

He smiled at her. "Thank you, Aunt Petunia," He went into the kitchen where Dudley and Uncle Vernon were sitting around the table. His uncle was reading his newspaper and his cousin was tapping a cane impatiently on the ground as he waited for his food. Harry withheld a grimace as he looked at what his cousin was wearing.

His aunt and uncle had entered his cousin to his uncle's secondary school, Smeltings Academy, and, ever since they bought his uniform, he'd spent most of the days wearing it.

Harry was glad that he wasn't going there. Their uniform was just atrocious. Who in their right mind decided that a maroon tailcoat, orange knickerbockers, a straw boater, and a gnarled cane were good ideas for a uniform? He could only hope that the magic school that Aunt Petunia said would give him his acceptance letter sometime in the summer would have a better uniform. Then again, any uniform would be better than Smeltings' atrocity.

As Harry and the Dursleys started eating their breakfast, the sound of the mail slot clinking reached their ears.

Almost automatically, Uncle Vernon's voice rose from behind his newspaper. "Get the mail, Dudley."

Just as quickly, Dudley burped out, "Don't wanna."

"Get the mail, Harry."

Harry let out a soft sigh. His cousin was ever the lazy bum. "Sure," he grunted as he stood up and headed to the front door to pick up the mail. He sifted through them as he picked them up. It contained the usual: Aunt Petunia's subscriptions, the bill, some postcard from Aunt Marge (Harry scrunched his face in grimace; he really didn't like that woman), and…a letter for him.

His eyes widened as he took the time to look at the envelope. Written in the center was:

_Mr. H. Potter  
The Second Bedroom  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey_

He turned the envelope over and looked at the wax seal. A lion, a badger, an eagle, and a serpent surrounded the letter H. He couldn't keep the small smile off his face as he returned to the kitchen, where Aunt Petunia was looking at him expectantly. "It's here," he simply said.

Uncle Vernon tensed behind his newspaper, Aunt Petunia pursed her lips, and Dudley was more focused on his food.

"Alright," she softly spoke as she moved to leave the kitchen, "let's not talk here. Let's let Vernon and Dudders enjoy their breakfast."

As Aunt Petunia led Harry outside the kitchen, he glanced over his shoulder and waved dismissively at Dudley's bewildered expression. His cousin's eyes glazed over for the briefest of seconds before he turned back to eating his food. Harry returned his gaze forward, where Aunt Petunia had entered the living room and sat in one of the couches. He joined her in the room but sat on the couch across her.

"Go ahead and read your letter, Harry," she simply said, her lips pursed tightly as she watched him.

Harry nodded and did as told. He opened the envelope and pulled out two pieces of paper. Looking at the paper that looked more like a letter, he started reading it:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress_

Afterwards, he put the letter behind the second piece of paper.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM_

_First-year students will require:_

_1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4\. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags._

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad._

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus_

_Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions_

As he finished reading, he raised his head, only to see Petunia peering outside the living room window, her eyes pointed upward to the sky. "Aunt Petunia," he asked with a raised brow, "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the bloody owl that brought that letter here," she haughtily replied, "I remembered my…my sister panicking when she finished reading the letter because we _obviously_ didn't have an owl to be able to reply to them. Lucky for her, there was an owl flying above us that came down after she read her letter. Ruddy bird," she softly scoffed, "Couldn't even be bothered to wait beside the bloody letter or even on the mailbox instead of making my sister panic for five minutes straight." She shook her head in annoyance before she briskly walked to the front door.

Harry furrowed his brows as he followed after her. He watched her leave through the front door and he joined her. She was watching the skies, making Harry look up as well. Within seconds, his eyes caught sight of an avian creature circling far above their house. Narrowing his eyes, he saw that it was indeed an owl. As if detecting that it had been found, the owl descended from the sky and landed on the Dursleys' fence, piercing them both with its stern gaze.

"There it is," she let out a small sniff as she watched it, "It's probably going to wait for your response; so don't keep these-these people waiting."

Harry nodded at her and said, "Give me a few minutes. I'll write one up." He went back into the house, with Aunt Petunia following behind him and closing the door behind her.

As they both went back to the living room, she took out a pen, paper, and envelope to hand to Harry. "Here," she said to him, "Tell this headmistress to pick you up here tomorrow or something. The sooner she comes and goes, the better I'll feel."

Harry frowned as he took both items. "You don't like this Ms. McGonagall?"

"Later, Harry," she let out a shuddering sigh as she sat in the couch, "Later. I'll tell you later. Just…just write that letter."

He stared at her for a few seconds before sitting down and starting to write his response.

_To Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,_

_I have received my acceptance letter to your school. As I have little, if any, knowledge about this world of witchcraft and wizardry that the Hogwarts School is involved in, I'll need someone to guide me and, as you are the person who wrote my acceptance letter, I ask you to be the one to do so. I am available tomorrow and am looking forward to meeting you._

_Thank you,_

_Harry James Potter_

He put down the pen and reread it. It was short and to the point. He wrote that he indeed got the letter; he explained that he was new to the magical world and wanted someone, in this case, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, to bring him up to speed. Nodding to himself, he folded the letter and put it in the envelope. Turning it around, he then wrote:

_Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

He raised his head to look at Aunt Petunia; she had her arms crossed as she took deep breaths. Deciding to give her some time to herself, he stood up and went out the front door, where the owl still stood on the fence, watching him. He approached the owl, holding out the letter. The owl held out a leg, where Harry put the letter. Its talons gripped the envelope tightly before it let out a short hoot. Then, it spread its wings and took off into the morning sky. Harry stayed outside to watch it leave before he went back inside the house.

Returning to the living room and to Aunt Petunia, he sat back down on the couch and said, "The owl's gone, Aunt Petunia. It's on its way to send the letter. If it goes well, Ms. McGonagall will be here tomorrow."

She let out a scornful sniff after he said those words. After a while, she said, "Alright…I suppose I should start telling you all I know about this magical world that my sister was a part of."

"Why didn't you tell me when you told me about the letter?"

Her face scrunched in distaste. "You must understand, Harry, that I hold no love for these people at all. It's only because you're my sister's son that I tolerate them. Were it not for you, I would've burned each and every letter like it. Back then, I…I hadn't prepared myself for it. I was delaying the inevitable; I knew that. But I didn't say it to you back then. Now, though…" she trailed off before shaking her head. "Now that you're going to that school, I know that I can't let you go there before I tell you everything I know."

Harry didn't reply for a while as he stared at his aunt, mentally frowning at her. _You're right, Aunt Petunia. If it wasn't for me, you would've burned each and every letter, even if I'm your sister's son. If I hadn't used the Force on you, you wouldn't have started treating me like a son and would've continued treating me like a slave._ "And, so…where do we start?"

She crossed her arms with a quiet huff. "I suppose it's best to start where it began: when my sister found out about magic back when she and I lived in Cokeworth."

+-*/

The very next day just before breakfast found the front door knocked on the nervous Dursley family and the calm and collected Harry. Harry, wearing a casual, dark green shirt and jeans, went to answer it. As he opened the door to see who it was, he blinked at the woman standing in the front porch.

Standing in front of him was a tall, stern-looking woman. Her black hair was hidden underneath a pointed hat and her eyes were behind square spectacles that peered down at him curiously. Her hands were folded in front of her emerald green robes (that already got Harry liking her; he rather liked green).

"Mr. Potter?" Even her voice reflected her sternness as she asked for a confirmation of his name.

"Yes. And you are Ms. McGonagall?" he asked in return.

"It's Mrs.," she corrected, "But, as you are going to be a student of Hogwarts, you shall address me as Professor McGonagall."

He nodded at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to make assumptions, Professor." He moved aside. "Would you like to come in? We were just about to start breakfast."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter." She moved into the house and Harry closed the door behind her. "I'd like to have a short talk with your…family before we go."

He raised a brow as he walked to the kitchen but didn't say anything as he joined his relatives at the table.

Professor McGonagall remained standing by the kitchen door, observing the Dursleys with critical eyes. Already, Harry could see the disapproval at their…physical state. He couldn't really blame her; Uncle Vernon and Dudley were practically walking heart attacks and Aunt Petunia was thinner than she was.

"Good morning," she softly greeted them with a nod of her head.

Uncle Vernon's mustache twitched as he murmured in return. Dudley was silent in nervousness as he was trying, and failing, to focus on his food and not on the weirdly-dressed woman in their house. Aunt Petunia hadn't touched her food and instead settled on glaring at Professor McGonagall with her arms crossed. Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared at the uncouth greeting but said nothing.

"I shan't disturb you further," she said, "I'll remain in the living room for the time being; I'd like to have a word with your aunt and uncle after they're done." Seeing them nod, she left the kitchen.

Breakfast was a tense affair, Harry mused, as he finished first and cleaned his plate. His aunt and uncle ate their food slowly while they kept glancing at the kitchen door, as if expecting Professor McGonagall to return to disturb them once more. Dudley had now focused on his food, the sight of the professor having gone from his mind. After the Dursleys finished their breakfast and cleaned up, they had Dudley go up to his room for the time being while they went to the living room.

Professor McGonagall sat in one of the couches, her body unmoving as she looked at the room around her. Her eyes went to them as they entered and sat on the couch across her. Harry resolved to sit in the couch adjacent to theirs.

"As the letter stated," she started, "I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and a Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She ignored the disgruntled sounds from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. "As requested, I am here to escort Mr. Potter and get him his school supplies for the upcoming school term." She affixed her stare to Aunt Petunia, who tried to both look away in discomfort and stare back in defiance. "I recall that you were Mr. Potter's mother's sister. You should have some knowledge about the wizarding world."

Aunt Petunia's face scrunched at that before she sniffed, "I do. I don't want to but I do."

Harry noticed Professor McGonagall's eyes narrow a smidge. "Before I came here, Professor Dumbledore told me what little he could about his experience with you; he told me that you sent him a letter asking to attend Hogwarts after finding out about your sister's a witch."

"And he sent a letter back that I can't," she immediately replied, a scowl showing on her face, "Don't remind me about that." She took deep breaths as Uncle Vernon put a hand to her back as he glared at her.

"It's not my intention to remind you for it," Professor McGonagall responded. "I'm sorry if that's what it sounded like. I meant to imply that Harry should have had some knowledge about the wizarding world from you."

"She told me what she could, Professor," said Harry, interjecting between them. As the elder woman turned to him, he gave her a small smile. "She was brave enough to get over her feelings about this other world for a moment to tell me all she knew."

"What did she tell you so far?"

"She told me about her experience with my mother back when they were younger before and after my mother found out about magic, about the letter to Hogwarts that students receive when they're ten or eleven, about the owl that would usually hang around the house for the reply letter for the non-magical households, about this griffin house that my mother was a part of and had plenty of stories about. She also told me about her experiences with my father, or what little she had. All she knew was his name, that he was a wizard, and, from the letter that was left with me when I was dropped off their doorstep, died from an evil wizard."

Professor McGonagall nodded at him. "I see. Thank you, Mr. Potter, for sharing that. And thank you, Mrs. Dursley, for sharing with Harry."

Aunt Petunia sniffed softly. "I'm not about to let Harry go to your world without knowing anything."

"And you have my thanks for that." She stood from the couch and turned to Harry. "Shall we go, Mr. Potter?"

Smiling at her, Harry stood as well. "Okay."

She turned to the Dursleys. "I'll have him back by the afternoon with all his school supplies." She saw them nod in response. She nodded back, saying, "Good day," before she held out an arm towards Harry. "Take my arm, Mr. Potter."

He blinked at her. "For what?"

"I have another student I need to pick up. She too wanted me to escort her to the wizarding world today."

"She?"

"Yes, one Hermione Granger," she explained, "She seemed rather…enthusiastic, if her handwriting was anything to go by."

He could only blink at her statement.

"Nevertheless, after we've picked her up, I'll do my utmost best to inform you both of the wizarding world. Now, my arm, if you please, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked at her outstretched arm before turning to the Dursleys. "Well, I'll see you guys later." At seeing their slow nods, he took Professor McGonagall's arm. Without warning, Harry felt himself being squeezed through a very tight tube, his entire body felt like it was being pushed on all sides. Seconds later, Harry let out a grunt as the feeling suddenly stopped. He took one deep breath as he recovered from the travel. A hand on his shoulder made him turn to Professor McGonagall.

"I'm sorry about that, Mr. Potter," she apologized with a concerned look in her eyes, "I forget that Apparition tends to make people sick the first few times. Are you alright? Do you need a moment?"

He shook his head as he stood straight. "I'm fine, Professor. I've already recovered."

She paused briefly to regard him critically. Seeing nothing amiss, she returned her gaze ahead.

They reappeared on the front porch of another house. Professor McGonagall knocked on the door, just as she did with his earlier.

The door opened and Harry saw the sight of a young girl with brown, bushy hair looking at them with wide eyes. She seemed to quickly recognize Professor McGonagall as she gave a wide grin that showed large front teeth. "Ah!" she exclaimed, "You must be Professor McGonagall! I thought you'd never come! I couldn't wait for you to come! I spent all day pacing in our living room waiting for you!" She then noticed Harry beside her. "Oh! Are you another student? I'm Hermione Granger, nice to meet you!"

Harry stood in silence as he stared incredulously at the girl who now extended a hand towards him.

"I did warn you, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall seemed amused from beside him, "Ms. Granger here is very enthusiastic about the wizarding world."

Hermione flushed at her words but didn't lower her hand, still staring at him expectantly.

He slowly lifted his hand and shook hers. "I'm…Harry Potter, pleased to meet you."

"Hermione, dear, is that the Professor who is going to help you out?" A woman's voice spoke from inside the house. A woman then approached from behind Hermione to look at the two of them. "Ah, it is," she greeted with a smile, "Hello there. You must be Professor McGonagall. I'm Jean Granger. It's good to meet you."

Professor McGonagall nodded at her. "Thank you, Mrs. Granger. May we come in?"

"Of course, of course!" She led them inside their house and into their living room, where Professor McGonagall and Harry sat on the same couch while Hermione sat across them. "Dan," she called out up the stairs, "Dan, the professor is here!"

"I'm coming," a man answered, "I'm coming!" Footsteps eventually came from the stairs and a man joined the mother as they went to the living room and sat with their daughter between them. "So you must be this professor who wrote our daughter's acceptance letter to this…Hogwarts?"

"That is correct, Mr. Granger," Professor McGonagall replied curtly, her hands folded on her lap, "I am Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She gestured to Harry. "This is Harry Potter. He is also attending Hogwarts this upcoming term."

He gave them a small smile and a nod, which they returned before they turned back to her.

"So…I…I really don't know what to say, Professor," Dan spoke up, wrapping an arm around the grinning Hermione, "I'm still confused by…by everything. I mean, magic is real? And our daughter is able to do this…magic? This is not some sort of trick, is it?"

"I assure you, this is not a trick." She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a thin stick, which drew everyone's attention. "This is a wand and this will be what all students will need and use for their magic," With a wave of her hand, the table in front of them turned into a pig.

"Oh, my God!"

"Wow!"

"My goodness!"

The Grangers looked at the pig with wide eyes and agape mouths. Dan and Jean looked at it in shock and surprise while Hermione was alight with excitement and energy.

Harry, for his part, was also wide-eyed as he looked at the pig. _So that's magic. Revan was right. It does manipulate reality down to the molecule. I can feel a small flicker of life inside this…pig._

With another wave of her want, Professor McGonagall returned the pig to the table it once was. "That," she started, "is what we call Transfiguration. It changes the form and appearance of another object. It's one of many subjects you are taught at Hogwarts. Mr. Potter's relatives are aware, however minimal, of the wizarding world and have expressed that they want little to do with it so I obliged. However, I can tell that you are not as hesitant to learn so I can at least explain to you all about Hogwarts."

Hermione was nodding vigorously from between her parents while said parents listened intently.

"Magic, at its core, is an inherent ability to affect the world around us." She gestured to the table between them that used to be a pig. "It has existed for thousands of years and has long since evolved and grew from then. Obviously, not everyone can use magic but those who could are call witches and wizards and we teach these witches and wizards how to use their magic effectively at numerous schools of magic around the world. Britain and Ireland have Hogwarts. It was built by four of history's greatest witches and wizards: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin, They founded Hogwarts 1,000 years ago to build a place that is safe and secure for young wizards and witches. Though this was centuries before the witch hunts, it served to protect those with magic. They elected on a House system where they'll select students that exemplify their favored attributes in students. They are Gryffindor, which values bravery, Ravenclaw, which values intelligence, Hufflepuff, which values loyalty, and Slytherin, which values cunning."

Harry held back a frown. _That sounds good on paper but it seems…conceited to separate children based on their main traits. Rivalry is good but there's too much of a good thing._

"For the first years, like Mr. Potter and your daughter, they will be taught the core branches of magic. Transfiguration, as I already explained, alters the form and appearance of objects. Charms gives properties to objects. Potions is the art of making mixtures from magical ingredients. Defense against the Dark Arts focuses on protecting yourself against harmful spells and creatures."

"Um," Dan interrupted, "Harmful?"

She nodded gravely. "As with Muggles - non-magical people - and their technology, there have been some witches and wizards who use magic for malevolent means. Some spells and creatures only cause annoyances but there are a few that are grievous in nature. That's why we have such a class."

He nodded and hugged Hermione tighter, who only seemed even more excited the further Professor McGonagall explained.

The witch, nonetheless, continued, "Astronomy studies the stars and the night sky. Herbology will deal with magical plants, their uses, their dangers, and their cultivation. And History of Magic talks about the history of, well, magic along the ages. First years also have an extra class for flying."

Harry sat straighter. "Flying," he asked, his eyes glinting.

She turned to him with a raised brow and said, "Yes, flying. It's a class that shows first year students how to fly using broomsticks."

"What about magic carpets," Hermione asked eagerly, "Like the one in the movies?"

"Magic carpets are banned in Britain because they are Muggle artifacts and therefore forbidden to be tampered with. No other method of flying has been discovered and deemed safe for general use. However, certain magical communities in Asia and the Middle East still use them regularly."

"And only first years have to take this class," Harry asked.

"First years are the only class to take it, yes. It's to introduce the concept of flying on broomsticks to our students. One such use is a wizarding sport called Quidditch. Simply put, it's a sport that involves seven players, four different balls, and three hoops for both teams. One ball is used to score points; two are for stopping that from happening; and one is to win the match."

Harry nodded in response.

"Nevertheless, first years don't fly brooms outside of class or play Quidditch until their second year so it's moot to dwell on that sport until that point, Mr. Potter."

"Professor," Jean spoke up softly, "I need to ask. How did Hermione get the ability to use magic? My husband and I can't use it so how did Hermione?"

"Magic has yet to be studied completely and so we cannot explain how or why your daughter can use magic aside from just saying 'magic'. Blood plays a large part in determining one's ability in magic but it is not infallible. The most common heritage is a child of a magical parent and a non-magical parent that can use magic. Society calls them half-bloods. The less common are the children of two magical parents, which society calls purebloods, and the children of two non-magical parents, Muggle-born. The rarest is the child of two magical parents that produced a child that can't use magic whatsoever, Squibs."

Harry narrowed his eyes. _This society runs on blood elitism? This society keeps getting better and better._

"We have another daughter, Katrina," Dan explained, "She's currently with a friend so she's not here. Will she have magic too?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "I cannot say. Unless she has performed accidental magic in her youth, the only way to know is when she becomes ten." She put her wand back into her sleeve and folded her arms on her lap. "Do you have any other questions?"

"You will be taking Hermione and Harry here to buy their supplies, right?"

"That's correct."

"Where will we get the money to buy their supplies? Since we haven't really been introduced to this new world before, we don't have any suitable magic money."

"Wizarding money," Professor McGonagall patiently explained, "can be converted from Muggle money and vice versa. We have three types of coins: Knuts, Sickles, and Galleons. They are bronze, silver, and gold, respectively. You can obviously tell which one is worth more than the other." They nodded. "One Sickle is worth 29 Knuts and 1 Galleon is worth 17 Sickles, or 493 Knuts. If memory serves, 1 Galleon is…approximately £5. So, I suggest you all come with me so you can handle Ms. Granger's money."

"What about Harry," Hermione asked, pointing at the quiet boy beside the witch, "Where are his family? You said that they didn't want anything to do with magic but wouldn't you need them to handle his money?" Harry narrowed his eyes slightly at her.

"Hermione, don't just ask that," Jean scolded her daughter, "That's rude."

"Mr. Potter is an orphan and he currently lives with his maternal aunt and her family." At Professor McGonagall's stare, Hermione looked embarrassed that she had asked. "His father was the head of the House of Potter and they gained a substantial amount of wealth over the centuries. As such, his money is in the wizarding bank, Gringotts. I have the key to his trust vault and so we won't need his relatives to be there."

"You have the key to my vault?" Harry softly asked, his green eyes boring into the professor's.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Professor Dumbledore saw fit to keep it in his hands until you are old enough to go to Hogwarts. He gave it to me for our trip to Gringotts and told me to give it to your aunt and uncle after we're done. Since your aunt seems willing to get over her hesitation in interacting with the wizarding world for you, I can convince her to do the same for subsequent school years."

Harry gave an internal snort. _Oh, I'm sure I can convince her to do more than that._ Instead, he gave her a nod. "What can you tell me about my parents? My aunt didn't talk much about them. What little she told me was that they used magic, they met in this Hogwarts, they had me, they went into hiding, and they died, leaving me with my aunt and uncle."

Professor McGonagall looked pained, her eyes started to moisten and her lips quivered ever so slightly. "That was the most painful night of my-my life." She sniffed, took out a handkerchief, and dabbed her eyes. "I'm sorry. It's still painful to think of." Harry's brows furrowed as she recomposed herself. "E-Earlier, I spoke of wizards and witches who used their magic for evil means. One such wizard was in power twenty years ago. His name was V-" She shuddered and struggled with the name for some time. "His name was V-Voldemort." She let out a final shiver.

Harry softly asked, "Is this wizard truly terrifying that even his name inspires terror?"

"Professor Dumbledore is the only wizard he ever feared and Professor Dumbledore is considered the next wizarding greatest wizard since Merlin. That should tell you how powerful he was. For the sake of the world, Mr. Potter, it would be best to start referring to him as You-Know-Who."

_Fearing a mere name will only cause fear of the person to grow, which will in turn increase the fear of his name. It's a vicious circle._

"Lily and James, your mother and father," she continued, "were the best students of their time; they were Head Boy and Girl and there wasn't a class that they didn't exceed expectations." Her handkerchief went up to her eyes again. "When you were born, Professor Dumbledore had them go into hiding to protect them and you from You-Know-Who. But they were found and he broke into their house a-and…" She broke off with a soft cry. "He killed them both and was about to kill you but didn't succeed. No one knew why or how. The only thing the wizarding world knew was that something happened that night between you and him that made him fail and vanish from the world. The only sign that you vanquished him is that scar on your forehead."

Harry glanced briefly up at his forehead, where his scar was hidden by his black hair.

Dan interjected nervously, "S-So this You-Know-Who person is gone?"

"Yes. Young Mr. Potter made sure of that."

"I-I see." The father turned to Harry and gave him a nod. "I'm sorry for your loss and thank you."

Harry's emerald eyes turned to him and he nodded in return._ I didn't kill Voldemort, Mr. Granger. If I did, I doubt it'll hold. Someone immersed in the dark side like him wouldn't give himself to death that easily, especially after being killed by a baby._

Between the parents, Hermione stared at Harry with adoration. "Wow. You must be really powerful if you can do that."

"Hermione," her mother scolded again, "Don't just say things like that!"

Hermione pouted and crossed her arms, "Yes, Mum."

"Nevertheless," Professor McGonagall said, "Because of Mr. Potter's survival against You-Know-Who, he has gained fame in our world. I hazard to guess that, when I bring you all to buy your school supplies, they will stop what they are doing to express their thanks to you in an extravagant manner." At seeing Harry's grimace, she added, "Rest assured, Mr. Potter, that I will not let that happen. I will allow them to thank you or welcome you back but I won't let them approach you needlessly."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Of course, Mr. Potter," she put away her handkerchief and stood up, looking towards them all, "Now, let's get underway. Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, grab hold of my arms. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, grab hold of your daughter."

Harry watched Hermione enthusiastically obeyed, holding onto Professor McGonagall's arm, as he grabbed the other. The parents looked confused but nonetheless did as told, putting a hand on each of Hermione's shoulders.

"This might feel a little uncomfortable for you all. Please bear with it until it ends." Then, they vanished from the house with a pop.

+-*/

Harry couldn't keep an amused look on his face as the Grangers recovered from Side-Along Apparition. The mother was leaning on the wall, looking flushed and sick. The father had his hands on his knees, bending forward, his face a tad green. The daughter, while losing none of her excited energy, had settled for sitting on a small stool that Professor McGonagall had transfigured from a pile of garbage.

Professor McGonagall was patient as she stood beside Harry and watched them carefully. "Take as much time as you three need," she softly said before turning to Harry, "I'm honestly surprised that you recovered so quickly on your first time, Mr. Potter."

He shrugged. "I always recover from sickness quicker than most; I imagine that this kind of sickness isn't any different. I don't think I've ever gotten so sick that I was bedridden for a day."

"Your magic must be exceptionally potent to stop common sicknesses from affecting you." She nodded appraisingly. "You'll do well at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter, I can already tell."

He gave her a smile, his eyes closing, before turning back to the Grangers, all of whom seem to be slowly recovering.

Professor McGonagall asked, "Have you three recovered?"

"Yes," Dan breathed out after a deep breath, "That was rough."

Hermione, from beside him, exclaimed, "But it was so amazing! What was it?"

Looking down at her with amused eyes, the professor replied, "That is called Apparition. To the common Muggle, it's called teleportation." At the young girl's awestruck eyes, she added, "And you won't be learning it until your sixth year."

Almost immediately, Hermione pouted and crossed her arms petulantly, much to the adults' amusement.

"Come," Professor McGonagall beckoned, "We're close to the Leaky Cauldron."

"The Leaky Cauldron," Jean asked with a raised brow.

"Yes, that is a pub and inn where most witches and wizards go. It also holds the entrance to Diagon Alley, where we'll do all of our business today, banking and all."

She led them out the alley and to the main road. Then, she led them to a spot between a book store and a record store. Harry looked up at the hanging sign; the words "The Leaky Cauldron" and the image of a cauldron slowly appeared on the empty sign as they approached. Looking back down, Professor McGonagall had opened the door for them and ushered them inside.

Once inside, Harry took stock of the pub. For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A group of women were gathered around a table. A man in the corner was smoking a pipe. Someone was talking to the barman. Only the people closest to the door seemed to have noticed their entrance. But the moment Professor McGonagall closed the door behind her and joined them, everyone stopped what they were doing to greet her, their smiles and greetings numerous.

"Ah, Minerva," the barman called out with a grin, "Good morning to ya! Fancy a drink?"

She responded with a curt nod, "Good morning to you as well, Tom. Unfortunately, I can't stay. I have to take the Grangers and young Mr. Potter here to Diagon Alley."

The barman's eyes went wide as he looked at Harry. "Mr. Potter? The Harry Potter? Bless my soul!" Everyone heard the proclamation and stared at Harry. More specifically, they looked up at his scar, half-hidden beneath his hair.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the stares he was getting. One foot slowly slid backwards, ready to run the moment they tried anything.

Fortunately, Professor McGonagall stepped in for him, literally. She put an arm across Harry's chest and glared at the patrons. "Mr. Potter is not some carnival attraction to be gawked at. We are here for his school supplies, not to make him uncomfortable by reminding him of his past." Her glare hardened, making them all flinch. "Am I clear?"

"O-of course, Minerva," replied Tom, not taking his eyes off Harry, "But, can't we at least thank him, for what he did for us?" The other patrons voiced their agreements with varying volume.

"Be that as it may," her lips pursed thinly, "you can thank him without making him feel uncomfortable or making fools of yourselves crowding around him."

"Sharp as ever, Minerva," Tom complimented with a small grin as he turned to Harry, "Still, she has a point. Thank you, Mr. Potter, and welcome back to the wizarding world."

Harry mutely nodded as the others offered their thanks and welcome from their seats.

Satisfied with their actions, Professor McGonagall led Harry and the Grangers through the throng of patrons who still offered their thanks and welcomes as they passed. There was the occasional outstretched hand in his direction, as though wanting to shake his hand but she stopped that with a glare. This continued until she led them through a backdoor into a small, walled courtyard.

"You weren't kidding, Professor." Harry's face was scrunched in discomfort. "They were quite…excited. Thank you for not letting them crowd around me."

She nodded at him. "I have your best interests in mind, Mr. Potter. That includes making you feel comfortable in returning to the wizarding world." He gave her a smile, his eyes crinkling shut. She raised a brow at him before turning to wall. She took out her wand and tapped some bricks with it. Then, as she put her wand back in her sleeve, the bricks vibrated before it slowly moved aside to form an opening. It started as a small hole and then grew into a large archway that revealed a bustling street of stores and people that went on for miles.

Harry heard the Grangers behind him utter out sounds of surprise and awe. He didn't blame them; he had always wanted to see for himself this side of Earth that teemed with life as his masters explained to him. Now, he saw it with his own eyes and he wasn't disappointed so far.

"Welcome," Professor McGonagall spoke as she took a step forward and gestured to the vast street, "to Diagon Alley."

+-*/

Read and Review


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Star Wars.

Beta'd by HowInMadHowie.

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Chapter 3: Echoes of the Force

+-*/

All life was connected to the Force, Harry was taught, and all life resonated in the Force. Harry found that it very much rang true in Diagon Alley, where he saw hundreds of people going about their business.

Perhaps it was the magic that protected this place from mundane eyes, perhaps it was his close proximity to it, but Harry couldn't sense the sheer amount of life in this "Alley" until Professor McGonagall opened the brick wall. And it blew him away.

His eyes were wide as he looked at the bustling community in front of him. He never really ventured past the dreary Privet Drive or the nearby streets. And very, very few of the households had some semblance of awareness of the metaphysical and supernatural. So, Harry didn't really grasp the vastness of this wizarding world that he was a part of until now.

So, he couldn't keep the awe and wonder from his face as he finally beheld the first magical community he saw since he could think concretely. Beside him, he could sense that same sense of awe and wonder from the Grangers as they too looked at the bustling Alley with wide eyes.

Professor McGonagall looked at them, smiling softly. "Yes, it does look amazing, doesn't it?" She folded her hands in front of her. "Now, come. We must be off to Gringotts to get Mr. Potter's money and to have a vault set up for Ms. Granger before we can go wandering around Diagon Alley."

"A vault for Hermione," Jean finally turned her awed gaze to the professor, her brows furrowing in confusion. "What for? We have our own bank account in the non-magical world where we could provide for Hermione's school supplies."

She replied, "Having a vault for your daughter would be simpler for both of you. This way, you won't need to go through the effort of going to your bank in the Muggle world to withdraw money and then come to Gringotts to have it converted to wizarding money."

"I…guess you do have a point there, Professor," said Dan, nodding in agreement. "Well, lead the way then, Professor."

With a nod, Professor McGonagall turned to the Alley and beckoned the four to follow her.

Hermione and her parents seemed to struggle where to look; they couldn't decide whether to look at a store that housed odd ingredients on the shelves or at a store that sold animals that Muggles wouldn't have as pets; at a store with a broomstick on display or a store with a variety of robes and cloaks on mannequins…that were moving!

Harry had to do a double-take as he regarded the mannequins that turned to and waved at him as he stared. He slowly raised his hand and waved back before Professor McGonagall ushered him away from the store.

Hermione seemed to have settled on where to stare: a bookstore. Her eyes glinted in interest and only her mother's hand on her shoulder stopped her from rushing into it.

"Not until we get to this Gringotts place, Hermione," reminded Jean to her still-struggling daughter.

"B-but, mum," Hermione moaned at her as she was led away from the bookstore.

"None of that, young lady," she chided with a raised brow. "Gringotts first and then we can get in that bookstore."

"Okay, mum," She slumped dejectedly before crossing her arms across her chest as they walked. "Hmph!"

Mother and father let out a simultaneous sigh at their daughter's actions before the father turned to the mother and said, "She got that from you, you know."

"Oh, hush, you," was the quick reply at the same time as Hermione let out another huff.

Harry let out a quiet snort of amusement from beside Professor McGonagall, who held a glimmer of amusement in her eyes accompanied by the slight curving of her lips.

+-*/

Well, Harry had to hand it to Hermione and her parents; they took to the sight of these goblins well enough. They stared at the diminutive beings with wide eyes, although the parents stared with some fear and anxiety while the daughter stared with child-like wonder.

Professor McGonagall introduced them as the sole operators of Gringotts bank and should be treated carefully and respectfully as they walked towards the large, white building towering over all shops and stalls.

Guarding the large bronze doors stood said goblin dressed in red and gold. He scowled at the staring Grangers before turning to bow at Professor McGonagall and Harry, who nodded curtly back.

Harry felt a brief surge of surprise from the goblin at his actions before he returned to his cold glower.

The Deputy Headmistress ushered them inside, knocking the Grangers out of their stupor, but not before the family offered soft apologies to the goblin for staring at him.

The goblin was surprised again before grunting out a reply and turning back to his duties.

"Really sorry about that, Professor McGonagall," Dan apologized sheepishly. "We…didn't mean to stare at that goblin. Even after you told us about it, it was still a shock."

She nodded at them. "It was unfortunate but understandable. However, you three should be better equipped to dealing with them the next time you come here."

"Of course, Professor, thank you."

Past the bronze door was a silver door with what looked like a warning on it.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn,  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there._

_Charming, aren't they?_ Harry raised a brow in interest at the warning. _Or challenge_, he appended to his own words. Goblins seemed to be a proud race, given the behavior of the goblin at the entrance and the fact that they operated an entire bank that the wizarding world – or at least, wizarding Britain - relied on.

The goblin pair standing by the door bowed at them as they approached. From behind the professor, Harry nodded back and Hermione waved back at them. The Granger parents gave their own stiff nods as the group went past the silver doors. Past that door was a large lobby of marble with hundreds of counters with just as hundreds of goblins.

Professor McGonagall approached a goblin not busy with counting coins or precious gems. "Good morning," she greeted him, gesturing to the Grangers beside her, "This family would like to open a vault for their daughter and I wish to take Harry Potter to his vault for a withdrawal."

The goblin nodded before calling out, "Rignar, Griphook!" Two goblins joined him. "Rignar will help the family with their vault and Griphook will take you and Mr. Potter down to his vault."

The one named Rignar approached Grangers and said, "Come. Let's talk in my office."

Dan turned from Rignar to Professor McGonagall with a nervous gaze.

She simply nodded at him. "Go with him. We'll meet up here after we're done."

Rignar turned to one of the many hallways leading out of the main lobby and led the family through it.

Griphook held out a hand to her and asked, "Do you have Mr. Potter's key then?"

Stiffly nodding, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small key to hand to the goblin.

He appraised the key for a few seconds before looking up at her and Harry. "Everything seems to be in order." He then led the two of them into another hallway out of the lobby and into what looked like a deep cavern lit with torch sconces on the walls. The cave seemed to go deeper with railway tracks leading into its depths. Griphook whistled, which caused an empty cart to go up the tracks and stop in front of them. He gestured them into the cart before following suit onto the controls in the back. Then, the cart zoomed into the cavern, catching Harry by surprise and making him hold onto his seat.

_By the Force!_ Harry exclaimed in his head as the wind hit his face from the sheer speed they travelled. Within minutes, the cart reached its destination and stopped in front of the vault numbered 687.

"Vault 687," Griphook announced, getting off the cart and turning to them. "Lamp, please." Being closest to the lantern hanging on the hook, Harry detached the lantern and handed it to the goblin as he got off the cart alongside Professor McGonagall.

The goblin slid the key into the hole and unlocked the vault before pulling it open. Mounds of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts greeted his eyes.

"These are for you, Mr. Potter," she said from behind him. "Your parents left this for you."

Harry gazed into the coins in front of him as he asked, "Is this all of what my parents had? Or is this something like a separate…vault or bank account or something like what Uncle Vernon set up for me?"

Professor McGonagall blinked at him. "Your uncle set up a bank account for you, Mr. Potter?"

He nodded. "Yep. He didn't find it fair that Dudley always gets a lot of presents on his birthdays and Christmases and so on but I didn't. To be fair, I didn't really want anything on my birthdays aside from a thing or two that caught my interest." He shrugged. "My uncle would have none of that so he set up a bank account for me where he would deposit money to account for the gifts I should've gotten but didn't; something along the lines of ten or eleven years' worth of gifts from my uncle."

She stared. "I honestly don't know then if your parents set up something similar for you to use when you attend Hogwarts." She turned to Griphook questioningly.

"This vault is indeed under Harry Potter's name," he explained. "This was set up by James and Lily Potter when their son was conceived for when he would attend Hogwarts, for his personal use. It has a set amount of money for him to use which would replenish monthly from the Potter's main vault, Vault 704." He shrugged. "You might call it a trust vault or a child vault but one could also call it just a vault."

Harry nodded while his stare was still on his vault. "I see. Thank you for telling me." He moved aside and turned to Professor McGonagall. "I think you would know how much we would need for my school supplies more than I would. Can you help me?"

Professor McGonagall nodded and approached him. "Of course, Mr. Potter." She reached into her person and pulled out a small bag, which she poured the coins into before handing to Harry. "These would suffice for now, Mr. Potter."

He took the filled bag and smiled at her. "Thank you, Professor."

"Of course, Mr. Potter, it is my duty to help any and all students attending Hogwarts." She gestured to the cart. "Now, shall we return and reunite with the Grangers?"

+-*/

The professor, the goblin, and the young boy exited the cavern hallway back to the lobby. Griphook led them to the goblin Professor McGonagall had drawn the attention of when they arrived before leaving with a bow. Minutes later, Rignar emerged from the hallway with the Grangers in tow, leaving them with the professor.

Hermione looked quite happy as she returned to them. "I got my own vault," she exclaimed happily, "Vault 415!"

Professor McGonagall nodded at her. "Good to hear, Ms. Granger," replied the professor before looking up at her parents. "Is everything set up for your daughter?"

Dan returned with a shake of his head. "It's almost done. Gringotts would send a, er, human representative to our home within the next few days to set up an automated transfer between our bank and this one. Then, it'll be done."

"Very good," she replied approvingly. "Now, come. Let's go and buy your daughter's school supplies." She turned to Harry. "And yours as well, Mr. Potter."

+-*/

Their first stop was to buy a trunk for Harry and Hermione to put their stuff in: books, cauldron, wand, and so on. It was a relatively quick and painless process and both students got their trunks fairly quickly.

As they left the store, Hermione turned to Professor McGonagall and eagerly asked, "Can we go to that bookstore next? I really want to see what books they have there. I'm sure they have the books written in our list but I want to know what else they have, like biographies or history books!"

"Hermione," her mother started exasperatedly, making her pout.

Professor McGonagall's expression didn't change, though her lips twitched a little. "Very well, Ms. Granger, we can head over to Flourish and Blotts for the books. Come with me."

Flourish and Blotts wasn't that full of people (it was a Thursday, Harry reminded himself) and so the group didn't find it difficult getting inside.

"Ah, Minerva," the manager called out from behind the counter, "Good day to you! Helping out students today?"

She nodded curtly at him. "Yes, I am. I am help Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger get their supplies." At seeing the manager's eyes widen, along with other customers stopping what they were doing to stare at Harry, her eyes narrowed and she spoke with a strong, firm tone. "Mr. Potter is here to buy his supplies. He is not here to be gawked at like a circus attraction. Am I clear?" They all looked properly chastised.

"Still as stern as ever, Minerva," the manager replied with an awkward grin.

Pushing her glasses back up her nose, she gave him a pointed stare. "And with good reason, Archibald," she promptly replied. "I want any new student, famous or otherwise, to feel comfortable when coming into our world." She walked towards him and took out a list from her robe. "Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger will need these books for their first year."

He took the list from her and nodded after reading it. "I'll get it right for you, Minerva. It'll only take a few." He flagged an assistant as he left to get their books.

Hermione immediately made a dash to one of the nearby bookshelves, her face showing her hunger for knowledge.

Jean quickly called out while chasing after her, "Ah! Hermione! Slow down! Those books aren't going anywhere!"

Harry thought that Hermione had a good idea getting a head start on her education. Of course, he wasn't one to be left behind. He looked up at Professor McGonagall and asked, "Can I have a look around, Professor? I also want to see what kind of books they have."

Something that seemed like surprise followed by pride emanated from the Professor, Harry sensed, as she replied, "Of course, Mr. Potter, feel free. If someone approaches you and makes you uncomfortable, remind them of my words. I'll remain here for when Archibald comes back."

He gave her a small smile. "Thank you, Professor." He took a look around before heading off to a random bookshelf. He skimmed through each book, idly remembering certain titles that caught his eye, such as _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, _Magical Moral Perspective_, and _The Book of Charms & Spells_, alongside the higher grades of _The Standard Book of Spells_. He made a mental note to return here in the future since he doubted Professor McGonagall, as his temporary guardian or chaperone, would allow him to buy more than what his list said.

Hermione had the advantage that she had her parents with her so they would be able to buy other books she wanted, albeit up to a point, whereas Harry didn't have that luxury. For now, at least…

Harry withheld a grimace as he rounded a corner. _Don't these people have anything better to do than stare at me? _He ignored the stares sent his way and continued to roam the bookshelves until he heard Professor McGonagall call his name.

"Mr. Potter," she said, "Your books are ready."

"Coming, Professor," replied Harry, walking back to the counter, where two stacks of books were placed on the table in front of the manager, Archibald. Hermione and her parents joined him soon after, the young girl's arms carrying a small pile of books. He raised a brow at the pile.

"What?" she asked upon noticing his stare. She blushed lightly. "There were a lot of books that interested me; I was only allowed a few books though, so these were the ones I picked."

"So," he slowly replied, "If given the chance, you would've gotten a whole lot more books than what you're currently carrying."

"Of course I would've," she exclaimed, as if it was obvious. "I'm not about to let all these books gather dust like that when it could be used for study!"

"I…I see…" he trailed off, watching Hermione happily add her pile of books to one of the two stacks on the table. He looked from her to her parents, who looked sheepishly at him, and then to Professor McGonagall, who looked pleased at Hermione's enthusiasm.

Really now, what else could he say to that?

+-*/

They left Flourish and Blotts with their trunks full of books, Hermione's having more than Harry's. Hermione's smile threatened to split her face as she followed Professor McGonagall to the store with the mannequins.

"This is Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions," she explained, "Or Madam Malkin's Robes for short. You can even call it Madam Malkin's for simplicity's sake. This is where wizards and witches in Britain get their uniforms, dress robes, cloaks, and other piece of clothing." She opened the door to the store and ushered the family and Harry inside.

Madam Malkin was a squat witch dressed in mauve who greeted them with a smile. Her blue eyes, behind her glasses, brightened as she said, "Ah, Minerva! It's so good to see you again!" Her eyes found Harry and Hermione. "Escorting new students, I see. Hello, you two. I'm Madam Malkin."

"Hello, miss," greeted Hermione, smiling back and bowing at her. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Pleased to meet you, dear," she replied.

Harry nodded after her and said, "Harry Potter." Harry didn't miss the quick glance Madam Malkin gave to his scar before going back down to his eyes.

She smiled. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter. It's an honor to have you in my store."

He didn't grimace or otherwise react to her words but he didn't like the revered tone of her voice all the same. _These wizards and witches put me on too high a pedestal for what I did as an infant_. He gave her a forced smile. "Please, Madam Malkin, I'm just a student like Hermione."

Judging by the seamstress' smile, Harry could tell that she doubted his statement and still held him in high regard. "Of course, Mr. Potter, of course," she said. She ushered both students to the nearby footstools to be measured. None noticed Harry's jaw tightening for the briefest of seconds at her words.

Both students left their trunks by the adults before following Madam Malkin, standing on the stools.

A second witch emerged from the back room with a set of robes hung over her arm, some of which she gave to Madam Malkin. They had both Harry and Hermione put on the robes to properly measure them.

It didn't that long to finish the measurements and Harry and Hermione had their robes stowed inside their trunks. The rest of the items on their list were simple to buy and they didn't have much issue aside from Professor McGonagall occasionally stopping the patrons and the managers from crowding around Harry. They bought their cauldrons, potion ingredients, and other supplies on the list.

Professor McGonagall paused in front of Magical Menagerie. She peered up at the sign before looking back at her charges. "Do either of you want to get pets today?"

The Grangers looked down at their daughter, their daughter's trunk, and then at what money they had left. "Perhaps next time, Professor," Dan explained with an anxious smile. "I think buying those extra books took a bit more than we expected to spend." Hermione had the decency to look embarrassed. "It's not…required, is it? The list didn't say that it was required, only that students 'may' bring one."

"It's not required, no," replied Professor McGonagall. "But it does help students while at Hogwarts."

Harry glanced at the family beside him before looking back at Professor McGonagall. "I'll hold off on buying a pet as well, Professor. I would have to ask Aunt Petunia." I'll get one when I come back.

The Deputy Headmistress gave a nod. "As you wish," she replied. "Then, all that's left is to get your wands."

Almost immediately, Hermione stood straighter, her eyes gleaming in anticipation. "A wand? Yes, please! This is what I've looked forward to the most!" Harry smiled beside her and nodded eagerly. "Come on, come on, come on! Let's go get it!"

Professor McGonagall replied with a smile of her own and led them to the store named Ollivanders with the tagline Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand on a purple cushion was displayed on the store window.

Upon entering the store, Harry could immediately tell that the Force was a lot…denser in here than it was outside. It was all around him, surrounding him, so completely that it formed a cacophony of sorts, like countless voices speaking all at once.

He shook his head to refocus himself and took a look around. He noted its small size, lending credence to the feeling of being surrounded with such dense Force energy. A lone chair was set on the corner of the shop, which Dan offered to Jean. There were rows upon rows filled with small boxes from the floor to the ceiling. Harry could also sense a presence further into the shop. _The shopkeeper_, he surmised.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Good afternoon."

The Granger women let out squeaks of surprise and Dan jumped in fright. Harry's brow rose to his hairline as the presence approached them and made itself known.

It was a pale old man, his silvery eyes roaming his customers. Then, he found Professor McGonagall. "Ah, Minerva McGonagall," he spoke softly, "Nine and a half inches, fir, dragon heartstring."

She gave a nod, smiling slightly at him. "Your memory is still as sharp as ever, Garrick."

"Of course, my dear," he replied. "It's as if you were just buying it yesterday." He then looked at Harry. "Ah, I wondered when I would be seeing you, Harry Potter." He moved closer to him but stopped when barred with Professor McGonagall's arm.

"That will do, Garrick," she sternly said, noticing Harry's frown.

"Forgive me, Minerva," replied the old man, stopping in his tracks. However, he kept his gaze on Harry. "You have your mother's eyes. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, willow, made with unicorn tail hair. Good for charms. You also have your father's face, strong and willful. Eleven inches, made of pliable mahogany, infused with dragon heartstring. He made use of it immensely for transfiguration." His eyes then went up to the scar. "And that is where…. I'm sorry to say that I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen and a half inches and yew. It was a powerful wand…and in the wrong hands…." He trailed off to focus on Hermione, who seemed quite creeped out by his appearance. "Ah, a new witch," he said, a small smile on his face. "It always warms my heart to see young talent being brought into my store. I am Garrick Ollivander." He bowed.

"P-Pleased to meet y-you," Hermione stuttered out tensely. "Her-Hermione Granger."

"Pleasure," he pleasantly responded as he took out a tape measure from his pocket. "Ladies first," he offered.

She hesitated before stepping forward.

"Now, which is your dominant arm?"

"M-my right arm…"

With a nod, he started to take various measurements while he spoke, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix feathers, and dragon heartstrings. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are the same. And, of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's – or witch's wand. After all, the wand chooses the wizard, the witch." He stepped back to start perusing his shelves of boxes, leaving the tape measure to autonomously continue taking measurements from Hermione.

"U-Um, Mr. Ollivander," Hermione slowly asked, trying to tear her eyes away from the tape measure measuring the length of her forehead to her chin, "Just what did you mean by that?"

"Wandmaking is a very complex and mysterious branch of magic, Ms. Granger," replied Ollivander as he continued to go up and down the shelves. "Very few have the patience and aptitude for it. The Ollivanders are one of the best in their craft and even we don't completely comprehend its mysteries. It is said that wands have a will of their own, that they can, at times, act independent of its wielder; a quasi-sentience, if you will." He found a box, pulled it out, and walked back to them. "It is a side effect of wandmaking. After all, a powerful tool for magic would need to have a great deal of magic poured it into it. That will do." The tape measure stopped measuring the gap between Hermione's feet as Ollivander opened the box and presented the wand inside to her. "Try this one: ten inches of birch with unicorn hair inside." Hermione shakily reached out and took the wand in her hand. When she simply looked at it and then at him, he said, "Well, give it a wave."

Blushing, she moved to wave her wand before it was taken from her hands.

"Oh, no, not that one." He went back to his shelves and took out another box. "How about this one? A practical cottonwood wand, ten and three quarter inches long, containing a phoenix feather." No sooner had Hermione grabbed the wand and moved to wave it than Ollivander took the wand from her hand. "No, no, definitely not." Grabbing a third box, he gazed at it for a long time. "This is definitely the one: ten and three quarter inches, vine, and dragon heartstring."

The moment Hermione took the wand in her hand, she let out a soft gasp. Harry felt the rush of the Force filling her being and watched as the wand sent out red and gold sparks.

Dan and Jean were just as awestruck as their daughter, Professor McGonagall looked happy, and Ollivander clapped his hands.

"Wonderful!" exclaimed the wandmaker, "Absolutely wonderful! It is always a delight to see a wand choose its wielder!"

Hermione looked excited. "That was so amazing! It was like the wand was warming me! And then, the way it shot sparks!"

"Yes, yes," he replied, pleased, "Such is the mystery of wandmaking. It is a sight to behold." He gently took the wand from her hand, put it back in its box, and tied it up and packaged it before he turned to Harry. "And now, we come to you, Mr. Potter. Right arm or left arm," he asked.

"Er…I mostly use my right hand."

Ollivander gave a nod and the tape measure came to 'life' once more and started taking Harry's measurements.

"Mr. Ollivander," Harry spoke up, "You spoke of wands choosing their wielders and how a wizard won't get as good results with another wand."

"Indeed," he uttered while looking through the boxes in front of him.

"But what would happen if another wand chooses the same wizard?" He felt the stares of Professor McGonagall and the Grangers on him. "Or is it even possible? Can multiple wands choose the same wizard?"

Ollivander, though, continued his search through the shelves. "It is…not unheard of for a second wand to choose the same wizard but it is extremely rare. One such person who was chosen by two wands was Godric Gryffindor but he was chosen by his wands on separate occasions. To be chosen further by a third – or more, for that matter – has never happened and, I doubt, would ever happen." He pulled out a box and walked back to him, dismissing the measuring tap around the crown of Harry's head with a wave of his hand. "After all, we only have two hands to use them with. Ah, give this one a go: twelve and three quarter inches of pine and unicorn hair."

Like Hermione before him, he didn't even get to wave the wand before Ollivander took it from him.

"No, no, I don't think so. Here: a springy teak wand, eleven and a quarter inches long with dragon heartstring."

It was taken from him before he could even remove it from Ollivander's hands.

"Perhaps not. A firm beech wood wand, ten inches, encased around a phoenix feather might do that trick."

He barely raised it above his head when Ollivander plucked it from his fingers.

"On second thought, here's a rather flexible elm, nine and a half inches, dragon heartstring."

He was allowed to wave it but it didn't produce any effect, making Ollivander take it back.

"Hmm…definitely not that. How about this: a bendy bamboo of fourteen inches with unicorn hair?"

Harry tested wand after wand but none of them seemed to be what Ollivander was looking for. He felt as if he's tested every wand in the store with how many wands Ollivander kept having him try, taking from him, and leaving on the pile beside him. Harry honestly found himself starting to get a bit impatient with it all. If this was how all these wands were going to treat him (whether it's because of his connection to the Force was a mystery), he'd rather not have a wand at all.

Ollivander, however, didn't seem to share his displeasure. Instead, he got happier and happier with each wand that didn't choose him. "A tricky customer, I see. It's not to worry. There is a wand for you in here; we'll find it!" He pulled out a box and paused, looking down at it. "I wonder…" He went back to Harry and presented the wand inside the box. "Try the holly wand, nice and supple, eleven inches, with the feather of a phoenix."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the wand. This time, he could feel something, a slight tug at his very being. Now that it was in front of him, he could feel it more prominently over the cacophony of wands around him. He knew then and there that this was his wand. Confidently, he grabbed hold of the wand and immediately breathed deeply. Warmth filled his body, a warmth that emanated from his wand. He didn't even need to wave his wand as a small gust of wind gathered around him. It blew on his hair, whipping it back and forth, and the sources of light in the store flickered rapidly.

As it subsided, he was dimly aware of the Grangers and their praises at finding his wand. He could feel, as if from a distance, the pride and happiness of Professor McGonagall. He was brought outside of his internal musings when Ollivander gently took the wand from his hand, put it back in its box, and started to wrap it.

"Bravo, bravo," he softly said, "Wonderful…and curious…very curious…"

Harry looked up at the wandmaker, who was still packaging the box. "What is?"

Ollivander looked at him with his silvery eyes. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that _you_ should be destined for _this_ wand when its brother gave you that scar."

The Grangers let out soft gasps and Professor McGonagall's lips tightened. Harry simply narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, it is curious how these things happen. I think we can expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."

Harry clenched his hands as he stared back into Ollivander's eyes.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward and put a stop to that discussion, not wanting to further stress her charges. Ollivander acquiesced and charged both the Grangers and Harry seven Galleons for their wands and then bowed them out of his store.

+-*/

The trip home was a lot less energetic than it was at the beginning but that was to be expected after a shopping spree. They had stopped for a quick bite to eat at the Leaky Cauldron before they headed out to return to their homes. Harry kept quiet the entire trip home, deep in thought and his eyes narrowed.

Hermione provided most of the energy as she asked Professor McGonagall question after question.

"Professor," she had asked, "why did Harry take longer than I did when we went for our wands?"

And Professor McGonagall had as much patience as Hermione had energy. "I'm afraid that falls under the realm of wandmaking of which I know little. I can only guess that Garrick picks wands that he assumes would pick the young wizard or witch and if the wand didn't choose them, Garrick would find the next wand."

"Did you know that Gryffindor had two wands, Professor?"

"I did not. I daresay very few alive today would know about a secret like that. Garrick, as it turns out, would be one of those few."

"If Harry didn't ask," she exclaimed excitedly, "Then we wouldn't have known!"

"It's certainly an interesting piece of information but it is one of many secrets. And the four founders would very likely have innumerable secrets."

Finally, they managed to return to the Granger residence where Hermione was still asking her questions.

"I can't wait to get started on the classes! You said you teach Transfiguration. Where would we be starting from?"

"The basics, Miss Granger, we will start with the basics. We will start with transfiguring small items. For example, I might have you transfigure a rock into a rubber ball. As you progress, however, you will move onto bigger items and eventually the more complex spells, such as transfiguring a chair into a living creature."

"I think that's enough questions for the nice professor, Hermione," Jean chided her daughter. "Why don't you bring your school stuff up to your room? Tidy it up a bit?"

"Yes, Mum," replied Hermione dejectedly, dragging her trunk into her house.

The mother let out a sigh. "Ever since she was little, she always had this need to know as many things as possible." She gave Professor McGonagall and Harry a sheepish smile. "Even though she couldn't skip a grade, that didn't stop Hermione from pestering the older students; it drove them mad."

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "It's quite alright. I daresay she would have an excellent future in Ravenclaw. She would most certainly have fellow students to discuss subjects with; she won't find being in Ravenclaw lacking."

Jean laughed. "I don't doubt it."

Dan offered them a smile. "Thank you again for helping us out, Professor."

She nodded curtly. "You're welcome, Mr. Granger." She reached into her robes, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to them. "This holds a ticket for your daughter for the Hogwarts Express," she explained, "September 1st at 11 AM on King's Cross Station."

Dan opened the envelope and took out the ticket. His brows furrowed. "Platform 9 ¾?" he asked. "There's no such platform there…or anywhere, really."

"For Muggles, yes," explained Professor McGonagall. "However, for wizards, witches, and their parents, you simply need to walk at the wall between Platforms 9 and 10." Dan, Jean, and Harry stared at her. "I assure you that you won't hurt yourself when you do so."

Dan and Jean didn't look convinced but nonetheless nodded. The couple returned to their house and left the professor and the young man alone.

"Well then," she said, holding out an arm to Harry, "Shall we return to your home?"

Harry nodded up at her and took his arm. Seconds later, they vanished with a pop.

+-*/

Aunt Petunia sniffed derisively after Professor McGonagall brought Harry home and handed him the envelope his ticket. She peered down at the envelope in her nephew's hands with narrowed eyes.

"Those people haven't changed at all, I see; still using _our_ buildings to hide _their_ freakishness."

Harry looked up at her with a raised brow.

"I joined my mother and father in bringing Lily to King's Cross Station," she explained. "I didn't want to, of course; I don't want to be involved with such nonsense but they forced me to join them anyway. Imagine my surprise when I was pushed onto a bloody brick wall, only to go through it and into their world." She sneered. "For all their magic, they can't even find a way to bring their students into their school without using our world. Shows how much they're behind."

"I'll say," Uncle Vernon exclaimed from beside her, his hand holding Harry's vault key. "Why are they giving me Harry's key? It's _Harry's_, isn't it? I would think that these people would know how to give people the things that belong to them." He handed the key to Harry. "Here you go, Harry. I don't know if those lot don't trust you with your own money but I don't bloody care. It's your vault and your key! It should be yours!"

Harry took the key and pocketed it, smiling softly at his uncle. "Thank you, Uncle Vernon."

"Anytime, my boy," he said as he left for the kitchen, mumbling about 'their lot' and 'not knowing proper manners.'

Turning to Aunt Petunia, he asked, "Can you and Uncle Vernon give me a ride, though, to King's Cross?"

"Of course, Harry." She let out another derisive sniff. "I doubt those people would do it, even for Lily's son!"

"Thank you, Aunt Petunia."

"Now, go and put those things away." She glared lightly at his trunk. "It may be yours but it's still of _their_ world and I really don't want to look at it any longer than I have to." Her piece said, she headed to the kitchen.

Harry turned to and pointed his palm at his trunk. He made a lifting motion and the Force levitated his trunk off the ground. With his trunk in tow, he went up to his room and propped his trunk on his bed. Deciding to put his things away later, he went back down the stairs and into the kitchen, where his aunt and uncle were.

"Uncle Vernon," he asked, "Aunt Petunia?"

"What is it, Harry?" Uncle Vernon asked from behind his newspaper.

"Can you drive me to London tomorrow?"

"Why do you want to go there?" asked Aunt Petunia.

"I forgot to buy a few things from Diagon Alley earlier. Since Professor McGonagall already showed me how to get into Diagon Alley, all I really need is to get to London."

"Of course we'll take you there, Harry!" exclaimed Uncle Vernon, lowering the newspaper to look at him. "I reckon you forgot because that woman who brought you there kept distracting you, eh? Can't really count on their lot for anything! Don't worry, boy! We'll bring you to London and you can get everything you want!"

Smiling, he nodded his head. "Thanks, Uncle Vernon."

+-*/

Harry flopped onto his bed, sighing deeply. Having finished putting away some of his supplies, he decided to have his masters' presence for advice and support before he started reading his books or studying his wand. "Revan," he called out, "Meetra."

The ghostly figures of his masters appeared before him. "I see you've returned, Harry. Welcome back," said Revan.

"Welcome back, Harry," Meetra said, smiling down at him.

Harry smiled back at them. "Thanks." He turned to his masked master and said, "I…I learned some things about the one who attacked me and gave me this." He jabbed a thumb at his scar.

Revan nodded. "I see. What have you learned?"

He told them of Professor McGonagall's story, of how Voldemort came to the house he once lived in, killed his mother and father, and attempted to kill him but failed.

"And what do you think of that story?"

Harry frowned. "I think that a part of him – or at least some of his power - is in my scar. That would explain the presence of the dark side in it. Then – then that would mean that I didn't really kill him that night. Or, rather, what my mother and father did that night didn't kill him."

Meetra softly said, "You said that this world considers you their savior? You sound as if you disagree."

His frown turned to a scowl, his hands clenched at his sides. "Everyone thinks I'm special. All those - those people," he hissed angrily, "believe me to be some sort of hero for what happened that night. They raise me on a pedestal, expecting great things from me, and it's all misplaced! I'm no hero! I didn't defeat Voldemort or even do anything except sit there and watch as my mother sacrificed herself for me! _They_ should've been the heroes," he snarled. "_They_ should be the ones raised on pedestals!" He glared at his wand. "Even the wandmaker expected greatness from me, just because my wand has the same core as Voldemort's!"

She looked over her shoulder at the wand on his desk but Revan didn't even spare it a glance.

Instead, Revan quietly spoke, "What will you do, then? Will you chain yourself to their vaunted views? Will you remain at the pedestal others have put you on? Or will you rise above them? Will you become more than the hero they think you are? Will you make yourself truly worthy of the sacrifice made by your mother and father, unbound by the opinions of the people?" He paused to get his final question across. "Will you be Harry Potter, the vanquisher of Voldemort, the hero of this wizarding world? Or will you be Harry Potter, the son of Lily and James Potter, the heir of Revan?"

Harry looked down at his hands, his frown still fixed on his face. "I want to be more than just the boy who defeated Voldemort. I want to be more than just a hero. I want to be known for things that I actually did, not for things that people think I did. I want to be Harry Potter, just Harry Potter." He raised his head to look at his masters and smiled softly. "And from there, maybe…maybe I will become more with my own efforts."

Meetra returned his smile with one of her own, bright and proud. Beside her, Revan gave an affirming nod.

His smile faltered briefly as he remembered something, which both of them noticed. "Harry," asked Meetra, "what is it?"

"I - I want to remember," he said to them. "I want to remember what happened that night. The few nightmares I used to have didn't tell me anything beyond flashes of pain and green light." He grimaced. "Now that I heard the story from Professor McGonagall, I want to know more about what happened that night. Since my mother and father are - are dead and Voldemort is unlikely to tell me anything, I am the only one left to have witnessed the events." He looked up at them sadly. "I know that you two teaching me how to control my mind was to stop the dreams and to keep the images from distracting me from using the Force but I really want to know…"

Meetra pursed her lips and sat beside him as she raised a hand to his cheek. It was cool and warm at the same time and Harry couldn't help raising his own hand to cover hers and leaning into it. She softly said, "You know why we can't let you do that, Harry. Ten years is far too young to experience the murder of your own parents again, especially with such detail."

Revan added solemnly, "You would be consumed by the visions you would see and would have a brush with the dark side so early in your life if you witness it again. The nightmares you had, those already had the lure of the dark side. It was good that you didn't dwell on them after you woke up. It would be better if you don't dwell on your past until you are older, until you are far more ready to handle your grim past."

"I know," said Harry, his eyes shut and tearing up, "I know. I'm sorry I asked. I - I don't know what I was thinking….I guess today's trip to Diagon Alley…stressed me more than I thought…."

"Oh, Harry," muttered Meetra as she pulled him close for a hug or as close to a hug as a Force ghost could do.

Harry's teary grimace vanished as he returned Meetra's embrace, his face slowly becoming peaceful as he slowly drifted off to slumber. However, his focus was shaken loose, and his control over the Force slipped ever so slightly.

Harry Potter dreamt of green lights and pain, a nightmare that hadn't tormented him for years. But it didn't bother him; it never did. After all, Revan and Meetra were always there for him.

+-*/

Minerva McGonagall walked up the marble steps, opened the door, and entered the room to see an elderly wizard in extravagant robes seated behind a desk. "Albus," she greeted, approaching him.

"Ah, Minerva," Albus Dumbledore returned the greeting with a smile. "I trust your trip was successful with young Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter?"

She nodded. "It was. Both of them bought their necessary supplies and are ready for September 1st."

"Good to hear," he said, leaning back in his chair, "Good to hear." He peered at her through his half-moon spectacles. "And what is your assessment?"

"Miss Granger is as enthusiastic as her letter implied," she readily replied, "And our trip through Diagon Alley had no shortage of questions that she asked me."

"And young Mr. Potter," asked Dumbledore.

"He's…different," she hesitantly said. "I don't know if it was from his life with his…relatives," her face scrunched in discomfort at the mention of the Dursleys, "but he acts differently from James and Lily. He doesn't act like James did in his youth, overconfident and mischievous. Neither does he act like Lily, energetic and witty."

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair. "Oh?"

She struggled with her words. "He seemed so polite, so formal, and yet so quiet. He never socialized at all with me or with Ms. Granger. Whenever he spoke, it wasn't to talk about his anxiety or eagerness in joining with our world. It was to ask about his vault or about the subtler details of wandlore." She paused to look at him. "Did you know that Godric Gryffindor was chosen by two wands?"

He blinked. "Ah…I did not. I assume that Mr. Potter asked about two wands choosing one wizard then?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"I see. Back to Harry, did he seem detached throughout your trip? Did he act cold or indifferent?"

"Not at all," she replied with a shake of her head. "Rather, he showed his reactions mostly through his facial expressions. His eyes lit up after I opened up Diagon Alley, for example. But, he also has a tendency to react negatively whenever the customers in a store would stare at him like a circus attraction because of who he is; I saw his eyes narrow on more than one occasion because of it." She sniffed tensely at him. "I would think that they would have the sense to not gawk at a young boy who has ever been to our world before. If it weren't for me, they'd have crowded around him starting from the Leaky Cauldron and he would've taken all day to finish."

He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. "I daresay they have a good reason for wanting to get closer to Harry."

"Oh, I'm well aware," she huffed, her nostrils flaring. "But they should have more sense than that."

"Is there anything else you can tell me about Mr. Potter?"

She shook her head. "That's pretty much my first impression of the young lad."

"Well, I guess it is a good thing then that he was raised with his aunt and uncle."

She grimaced. "I still doubt that you made the right choice leaving him there. They may have taken care of Mr. Potter well enough but they are still the most dreadful sort of Muggles I've ever come across."

"Your concern is noted, Minerva," he said with a smile. "But my decision still stands. Harry will remain with them until he passes the age of majority."

Her huff told him what she thought of his decision but she nonetheless relented, "Is there anything else, Albus?"

"Ah, yes," he said, "before you return to your office, could you go get Hagrid for me? I have a task for him to accomplish."

She frowned. "Are you truly going to consider this, Albus? Surely, it would be safer there?"

"I wish I share your trust, Minerva, I really do. However, I trust Hogwarts more than I trust Gringotts."

She seemed like she wanted to argue further but she instead narrowed her eyes and left his office.

+-*/

Merry Christmas!

Read and Review.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Star Wars.

Beta'd by HowInMadHowie.

+-*/

Chapter 4: There and Back Again

+-*/

Harry woke up with a soft groan. He raised his hand to his head and rubbed his scar as he sat up. Swinging his legs off his bed, he lowered his hand and raised his head. He smiled. "Revan, Meetra," he greeted. "Good morning."

The ghostly forms of his masters greeted him back. "Good morning, Harry," Meetra replied. "I trust your nightmares didn't bother you that much?"

He shook his head. "No. They were there but I was fine." He smiled. "I had you two with me."

Both masters nodded at him, Meetra smiling back. She then asked, "So you're going back to Diagon Alley today?"

Harry nodded as he stood from his bed and got dressed. "Yeah. I have a list ready of the things I am getting while I'm there." He pulled a small piece of paper to his hand and waved it in front of them. "I'll be prepared on what to get."

Revan nodded. "Very good."

"What did you have in mind, Harry?" asked Meetra.

Shrugging, he looked at his paper and said, "I was thinking of buying a few more books. I also want to get a pet, perhaps an owl." He snapped his fingers. "Ah! I should also see if I can get a second wand!"

"A second wand?" she asked, raising a brow. "What is it for?"

Harry frowned as he pulled his phoenix wand to his hand. "This wand may be mine but it is still made from expectations. Mr. Ollivander expected great things from me because its core is the same as that of Voldemort's. I wouldn't be surprised if Professor McGonagall or the ones she told about this expected the same from me to act as the polar opposite, the contrast of Voldemort, the light to his dark. So, I want to have a wand that is essentially a blank slate, a wand that has no connection to Voldemort or anyone else but me."

Meetra frowned. "I don't recall you having a reaction to another of the wands in that store."

Harry pursed his lips. "I'll ask Mr. Ollivander if he can make me a second wand. I don't know if I need to bring my own wand core and wood or if he can provide materials for me."

While Meetra nodded in understanding, Revan remained quiet. Then, he said, "Harry, when you get back into Diagon Alley and get your money from that bank, ask for the Revan vault from the goblins."

Harry's brows furrowed. "You have a vault in Gringotts? Won't it be closed after three hundred years?"

"Bank accounts – or vaults, in this case – close when a family line dies without a viable heir to pass it down to. I had a vault opened to my name back then but didn't really die until three hundred years later. To be fair, I didn't expect to live for that long but I consider it a boon since it brought me and Meetra to you."

"You can't have named me heir before you died. You said that the Force can grant visions but it's only a vision of a possible future," Harry countered.

"Oh, Force, no, no." Revan chuckled softly. "I didn't get a vision of a future three hundred years from when I gained a vault. But I did leave a will that specified instructions on what to do if someone was to approach them with knowledge of my vault."

Harry nodded in understanding. "I see. I'll ask them about your vault after I get money from mine, master. Thank you." He bowed to his masters before leaving his room, closing the door behind him. Going down the stairs and to the dining room, he was met with the scent of bacon and eggs. Giving his aunt a pleasant smile, he greeted, "Good morning, Aunt Petunia."

"Oh, good morning, Harry," she absently said, pausing to return the greeting before turning back to the food. "Your food's by the table, by the way. When you're done with them, Vernon and I will take you to London so that you can get to...to _that_ place." She sniffed disdainfully at the mere thought but continued to cook.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," replied Harry, nodding and heading to the table.

"Why does Harry need to go to London, Mummy?" asked Dudley before letting out a loud belch.

"Close your mouth, Dudders," she automatically replied. "But Harry has some school supplies he needs to buy that he didn't get yesterday."

"Oh, okay," he said, ignoring the first part of her sentence and turning his focus back on the television and food.

"Aunt Petunia," Harry started, "can you or Uncle Vernon join me in Diagon Alley? I don't want to be alone there. They seem to find me famous and I don't want to have them to see me alone there and gather around me like they almost did yesterday."

Her aunt let out another derisive sniff. "Of course, Harry. God knows their lot don't know anything about propriety."

"Don't you worry, Harry!" exclaimed Uncle Vernon. "I'll make sure those lot don't distract you while you're shopping!"

"Thanks, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia." Hearing both of them grunt out a reply, he returned to his breakfast.

After breakfast, Harry sat on the passenger's seat of his uncle's car, ready for the hour-long drive to London. It was a quiet drive, just the way Harry liked it. It was really easy to persuade his uncle to maintain his temper and keep quiet during the drive; it gave Harry the peace to meditate during the trip.

"Harry, Harry." His uncle's voice tore through his meditations and woke him up. "We're here, Harry."

Harry opened his eyes and looked around. True enough, the sign to the Leaky Cauldron was across the street from where they were parked. "Thanks, Uncle Vernon," he said as he stepped out of the car.

His uncle replied, "You're welcome, Harry," as he locked the car. "I'll follow you, Harry. Lead on."

Harry led his uncle out of the parking lot and towards the wizarding pub across the street. He opened the door and went in. His uncle grunted with slight effort to fit through the door, which drew all attention to him – and, by extension, Harry.

"Oh, welcome back, Mr. Potter!" Tom the barman exclaimed, waving at him with a wide smile. "Pleasure to have you again!" The sounds of chair scraping on the floor reached their ears, making Tom exclaim. "Oi, you lot! Don't go starting crowding around the boy! He's a student and a young boy, not a circus attraction!" Grumbles and mumbles met him but no one argued with him and they returned to their seats.

Harry's smile was strained but he maintained a pleasant voice as he said, "Thank you, Mr. Tom. I'm here to get a few more things that I didn't get yesterday so please don't mind me."

"Ah, of course, Mr. Potter," he said, nodding at him. "Let me get the door to Diagon Alley open for you."

Nodding at him, he said, "I'd like that, Mr. Tom. Thank you." He and Uncle Vernon walked past the tables and chairs to join Tom, who had left the bar to escort them to the small courtyard. Taking out his wand, Tom tapped at the brick wall. As the bricks slowly parted to show Harry and Uncle Vernon Diagon Alley, Tom said, "Oh, and Mr. Potter, it's just Tom."

Harry gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Tom."

"Of course, Mr. Potter," he replied, nodding at him. "It's the least I could do."

The smile remained but his lips twitched subtly before he stepped into the Alley with his uncle in tow and he heard the passageway close behind him. He could sense his uncle's discomfort while trailing behind him and he could hear his grumblings from so close.

"What is with their get-up?" Uncle Vernon grumbled. "No fashion sense, I swear."

Harry found it funny that his uncle would say that when his old alma mater's uniform was just as atrocious. But he didn't disagree with it either; these wizards and witches did like their flowing robes, extra accessories, and bright colors.

Eyes trailed after the two of them but none approached them. Whether it was because of his uncle's presence or his...large stature, Harry didn't know but he was grateful for it. It let him go to Gringotts without incident. As they approached the bank, his uncle put a hand to his shoulder.

"Harry, what is _that_?!" Uncle Vernon hissed in his ear, his discomfort rising even higher.

Harry looked at him and then at what his uncle was looking at. "Well...those are goblins. They're the bankers."

"Th-they're not normal!"

Wincing, he turned to his uncle and whispered, "Please don't say that while we're in or anywhere close to Gringotts, uncle. We don't really want a fight breaking out."

Vernon's face scrunched in disgust at the thought of being close to any goblin. "Fine," he softly snapped. "But you'll do all the talking! I don't want to talk to any of them!"

Harry sighed and nodded. "Sure, Uncle Vernon." He slowly led his uncle up the steps to Gringotts, taking note of his uncle's disgust growing with each step. Harry then sensed the goblin guards' irritation as they approached, likely from his uncle's reaction. Harry sighed again, entering the bank proper and going past the second door and under the warning text. He approached one of the tellers not busy and said, "Hello. I want to visit my vault."

The goblin looked up from his paperwork and peered down at him through his glasses; Harry could see the name 'Grognak' on his tag. "You are Harry Potter," he said. "Do you have your key?"

Harry nodded and handed him his key. "Here it is."

"Very good," replied Grognak before he called out, "Slapjaw!" Another goblin joined them, coming from one of the hallways leading away from the tellers. "Take Mr. Potter and his...guardian" – the goblin's face scrunched in discomfort at addressing Uncle Vernon, noting his expression – "down to his vault."

Slapjaw nodded and escorted the duo away from the teller and into a hallway that led to the railway. Calling a cart down, the goblin gestured for Harry and Uncle Vernon to get in first before following suit.

Uncle Vernon looked around him, muttering, "Where are the ruddy seat belts on this thing?"

"Seat belts?" asked Slapjaw, smirking nastily at him. "You mean those _Muggle_ strips of leather on _Muggle_ transportation? This is the magical world, sir; we don't have those things here."

Uncle Vernon's face turned purple at the snarky tone the goblin spoke with but Harry's hand on his arm stopped him from responding.

"Uncle, it's alright," Harry said. "These things may be fast but they're safe."

"Safe?!" Uncle Vernon exclaimed incredulously. "What's safe about what looks like a roller coaster without any safety harness?!"

Harry grimaced. "It's all magic, uncle."

As expected, something twitched in his uncle's temples. "Fine," he hissed. "But if I fall-"

Harry interrupted him, "You won't, Uncle Vernon. I've been here yesterday." He turned to Slapjaw. "Let's just go before anything else happens."

Slapjaw let out a snort of derision but nonetheless complied, starting the trip down the tunnels beneath Gringotts. However, the goblin didn't bother keeping his laughter down when Uncle Vernon let out an exclamation of surprise and a string of obscenities as they descended.

+-*/

When they arrived in front of Harry's vault, Uncle Vernon stepped off first and leaned on a wall to catch his breath. His face was a sickly shade of green and he took shuddering breaths while Harry and Slapjaw got off the cart.

Slapjaw took out the key to Harry's vault and slid into the vault's slot. After twisting it to unlock it, he pulled the key out and opened the vault door. "Your vault, Mr. Potter," he said.

"Thank you," Harry thanked him as he entered the vault. He took out a bag, scooped a handful of coins into it, and weighed it in his hands. Satisfied by the amount, he stepped out of the vault, saying, "Alright, Slapjaw. Let's get back up. I still have one more thing to do before I'm done here."

The goblin raised a brow but shrugged and entered the cart.

Harry turned to his uncle and said, "Come on, Uncle Vernon. We need to get back up."

"Already?" his uncle complained. "We just got off it!"

Harry gave him a disarming smile and a small application of the Force to affect him. "You can handle it, uncle. It's just one more ride and you won't have to ride this thing again."

Uncle Vernon hesitated briefly before slowly making his way to the cart.

+-*/

Harry approached the teller from earlier with Slapjaw following behind him; Uncle Vernon was left on a bench to recover from the ride again.

"Harry Potter returns," Slapjaw announced,"and he tells that he still has one more thing to ask."

Grognak steepled his hands as he asked, "What more do you need from Gringotts, Mr. Potter?"

Harry took a deep breath and said, "I want to ask about the Revan vault."

Grognak's brows furrowed. "I have no memory of a Revan vault." Both goblins looked at each other and started talking to each other in their native language. Slapjaw then left the two of them alone. "Slapjaw will ask our manager about this vault you're asking about." He narrowed his eyes. "If it does exist, what is your relation to this...Revan line? To my knowledge, neither the Potter nor the Evans line have such a relation."

"I came across something of Revan's and it mentioned a vault he had to his name from long ago."

"I see," muttered Grognak but didn't ask him to elaborate. Instead, they settled for waiting for Slapjaw to return.

Minutes later, Slapjaw returned carrying a furled scroll in his hand. He conversed with Grognak in their native tongue again before handing the teller the scroll and standing off to the side.

Grognak waved the scroll lightly in front of Harry. "According to the manager, this is the only documentation we have of Revan and his vault. The only thing we know is that he had a vault given to his name three hundred years ago but the death clause didn't come into effect until ten years ago. Between those two times, however, neither Revan nor any of his line accessed the vault whatsoever."

Harry pursed his lips, trying to adopt a look of uncertainty. "I-I really don't know anything else about the vault, only that it exists."

The goblin fixed his glasses before unfurling the scroll. After skimming through it, he said, "The will does not designate any specific person as heir, only that whoever possesses knowledge of it and asks for it first will be declared heir." He frowned as Harry sensed disapproval coming from him. "That's a rather lax method of naming an heir."

"I mean," Harry suddenly interjected, "you said that the vault wasn't touched between now and three hundred years ago, right? Maybe Revan kept his vault a secret so well that it took this long for someone like me to even just hear of it?"

"It's still lax." Grognak sniffed as he looked up to Harry. "But a will is a will and everything else seems to be in order." He turned to Slapjaw and, after speaking in their tongue, gestured towards Harry. "Take Mr. Potter here to," he paused to look at the scroll, "Vault 719."

Harry nodded at him. "Thank you," Harry said, before following Slapjaw. When the goblin stopped by Uncle Vernon, Harry said, "I think we should leave him here. The trip to my vault kind of took a lot out of him."

"As you wish," Slapjaw said, leaving Uncle Vernon to recover on the bench and leading Harry back into the cavern. After calling a cart again, he let Harry ride it front before moving to the controls in the back and sending them back down the caves again.

+-*/

Vault 719 had no keyhole, unlike Harry's own Vault. Slapjaw approached the door and stopped in front of it. Harry looked at the door up and down before turning to Slapjaw. "I don't see a keyhole. Isn't there a key for this vault?"

The goblin turned to him. "No, there isn't. The vaults on the sixth level and below do not use keys to open them. Added security, you see."

"Okay," said Harry. "So how do you open this vault?"

Slapjaw ran a finger down the length of the door, which slowly melted away. He explained, "If anyone other than a Gringotts goblin were to try this, they'd get sucked in and be unable to get out until we open it for routine maintenance."

Harry didn't like the sound of that. "How often do you do maintenance?"

Slapjaw grinned nastily at Harry. "I'd say, about once every ten years."

Harry's face scrunched in distaste. "Lovely," he drawled before moving to enter the vault. The vault was filled with gold and silver bars and coins with a lone intricate cube atop a pedestal.

"Odd," Slapjaw commented as he peered into the vault. "I recall Gringotts vaults being bigger than this. Could this Revan person have changed the vault interior?"

Harry asked, "Can a vault holder do that? Change how a vault looks, I mean?"

"As long as the vault holder pays the fee," replied Slapjaw, "whether through this vault or through another method, the holder can deposit in, withdraw from, or do whatever he wishes with the vault. Within reason, of course," he then appended.

Harry then understood; if Revan's vault was smaller than what a Gringotts vault should be, then Revan somehow managed to lock the bigger portion of the vault using the device as the key. He pursed his lips and turned to the goblin. "Mr. Slapjaw," he called.

When the goblin looked at him, Harry acted. Through eye contact, Harry reached out through the Force to the goblin's mind. To Harry's surprise, Slapjaw's mind was unprotected. He then delved deep into the goblin's mind. Harry's brows furrowed as he tried to concentrate in his mental probing.

Harry didn't have difficulty with the Dursleys because they were particularly weak-minded and had simpler thoughts. On the other hand, reaching into Slapjaw's mind was more complicated. Whether it was because he was a part of a bank or because he was a goblin, Harry found the goblin's mind to be more complex.

Sensations, images, and emotions gathered in his mind and Harry knew them to be Slapjaw's. He focused on ignoring thoughts not his own and on influencing the goblin's mind. When he felt himself connecting with it, he raised a hand and waved it in front of his face. "I can handle things from here, Slapjaw. You can leave me in here until I'm done."

Slapjaw seemed to slacken and replied monotonously, "You can handle things from here, Mr. Potter. I can leave you in here until you're done." The goblin then stepped out the vault and stayed by the entrance, as Harry wanted him to.

Harry let out a soft sigh as he turned back to the floating device. Raising his hand hesitantly, he reached forward and touched it. He took a deep breath and channeled the Force to the device. His eyes scrunched shut as his vision was filled with a bright light.

+-*/

When Harry opened his eyes, all he saw was white. He looked around with confusion. "Where am I?"

Then Harry heard a voice behind him. "You are here because you are the one I chose to be my heir."

Harry spun around to face the speaker, only for his eyes to widen. "Revan," he exclaimed. "You're here!"

The masked and hooded figure tilted his head. "I am not the Revan you seem to know, young one. I am Revan from when I created this, the Revan who found and mastered the Star Forge."

That's when Harry took a closer look at Revan. This Revan was indeed different from the one he knew. This Revan's form seemed to fizzle very, very slightly, like watching from a television, and looked more cyan than the bluish glow of a Force ghost. He also lacked the same presence in the Force that the other Revan possessed. "Are you...a recording? Or a ghost?"

"I'm a hologram," Revan explained, "brought out of the holocron in my vault by you."

"A holocron?" Harry repeated, his eyes wide. "You had a holocron as both a security device and a repository of knowledge for your vault."

Revan lightly scoffed, "Of course. I won't give valuable knowledge and items to just about anyone. Simply knowing my vault's existence is not enough to be worthy of it; that's a poor security measure. That's why I'm here: to properly test the worthiness of those who approach me."

Harry licked his lips. "And how will you test me, Revan?"

Suddenly, objects and entire landscapes seemed to rush towards the two of them and Harry, not able to help it, closed his eyes and raised his arms to protect his head. The air around him whooshed loudly but nothing got close to him or touched him. When the sounds cleared, Harry lowered his arms and opened his eyes. His entire surroundings changed; what was once a white expanse became what looked like an obstacle course. On the other side of the course, atop a raised, wide platform was the form of Revan, his arms crossed and his gaze locked on Harry.

"The magicians of this world know little of the Force," said Revan, disapproval in his voice. "What they know, they call magic. They are also incapable of the physical feats that Jedi and Sith are capable of doing." Revan gestured to the course. "So, my chosen heir, test your skill. Come to me."

Revan had a point, Harry mused. There was a lot of acrobatics that he would need to do to get to his master and Harry doubted the common witch or wizard would be able to. None of the wizards and witches he came across earlier today and yesterday would be able to get past the obstacle course in front of him. Their robes would restrict them from doing a lot of the movement and some even had a bit of poundage to them that would make all this even more difficult.

Harry shook his head. _Focus, Harry, focus_, he mentally chided himself. He then looked at the course properly to decide on a path to get to Revan. He bent his knees and started on a run. He took a great leap to get to the other platform. Landing, he continued his sprint, his feet taking him from the platform to the nearby wall. By the end of the wall, he jumped to reach a lone bar and swung on it, landing with a roll. He did a running start to get a few feet up the wall before grabbing onto the climbable surface and reaching the top. Now halfway through the course, Harry grinned wide as he looked at Revan, still standing on the platform and watching him.

Harry always loved doing this, the rush of constant agile motion, the thrill of acrobatic movement as he got from point A to point B. It got his blood pumping and he relished in the feeling. Taking a deep breath, Harry ran forward to complete the other half of the course.

+-*/

Revan tilted his head as Harry landed in front of him. "Well done," he said.

Harry was panting heavily but he grinned at Revan. "You trained me well, Revan."

Revan hummed before saying, "But, you were distracted at the beginning and halfway through the course; you will need to work on focusing on the here and now." Harry flushed in embarrassment. "Nevertheless, let's carry on. So, you've shown to be capable of physical feats. Now, let's test your control over the Force under stress." The environment changed again and Harry found himself surrounded by big boulders.

Frowning, Harry looked around at the boulders around him. Revan obviously doesn't want me to just lift these rocks._ Control over the Force under stress? What kind of stress is he talking about? Maybe he wants me to do some exercise while using the Force? I mean...exercise is a kind of stress. I'll give it a try._ He raised his hands, put them on the floor, and then lifted his feet into the air. As he steadied himself on his handstand, he closed his eyes and reached out to the boulders with the Force. His face scrunched in effort as he slowly levitated the boulders around him. _Focus. Breathe. Focus. Breathe._

He didn't know how long he held his focus but he was brought out of his meditation when Revan said, "That's enough, apprentice."

Harry let out a gasp and a grunt as he tumbled to the floor, his arms aching and his breathing more labored than before. All around him, he heard the deep rumble of the boulders crashing when he stopped his meditation.

"You've got potential," said Revan. "You're young and have plenty of time to refine your physical and mental capabilities. I'll give you time to recover before I give you your last test."

Harry numbly nodded. "Yes, master," he breathlessly replied, trying to catch his breath. He slowly sat up, calming his breathing and his racing heart, while he watched Revan dismiss the boulders around them. Harry asked, "What's next, Revan?"

His masked mentor turned to him, holding two metallic, intricate cylinders. He tossed one to Harry, who caught it with wide eyes.

"Is this-" Harry cut off as he heard a snap-hiss, and hum coming from Revan.

"Training lightsabers," Revan replied, holding up the cylinder, from which extended a yellow beam of plasma. "For your final test, show me your proficiency in combat."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "C-combat?" he asked.

Revan nodded. "Yes. You've shown me your physical and mental capabilities but both will fail if you are unprepared in actual combat."

He pursed his lips, tightened his grip on the lightsaber. It was one thing to practice by himself hitting nothing but air; it was another to hear that he'd be using said practice on an actual enemy.

Revan sensed his hesitation. "Are you turning back now, after all the work you've done? Is your resolve wavering? Surely, the Revan you know would've told you about the life of a Jedi?"

"I-I-I-"

He pointed the lightsaber at Harry and said, "Are you not the one I chose to be my heir? Do you mean to say that I chose poorly? Should I have chosen a different person?"

His heart pounding – this time in nervousness – Harry slowly stood up and looked down at the hilt in his hands. He looked back up and clicked the activation stud on his lightsaber. He heard a second snap-hiss, and hum before seeing a similar yellow beam emerging from his hilt. "I-I'll do it!" He squared his shoulders and assumed his stance.

Revan stepped back and lifted his own blade, his free hand hanging loosely on his side, and said, "Very good. Now, come at me."

Harry gritted his teeth and charged at Revan, his lightsaber poised to strike.

Revan parried the first blow and pushed Harry to the side.

Recovering, Harry swung back around and struck at Revan's torso.

Revan blocked the blow and knocked it away. He took a few steps forward and brought his saber down on Harry's head.

Letting out a soft hiss, Harry raised his blade to block the strike. His leg shot out and kicked Revan in the torso. As his master grunted and broke contact, Harry took a leaping start towards him.

Revan sidestepped the attack and struck at Harry's back. Harry brought his saber up, over his shoulder, and to his back to block the blow. Revan quickly disconnected and moved his blade to Harry's front, which he just as quickly blocked by bringing his lightsaber to the front.

Harry pushed Revan's blade away and swung to his master's chest. Revan stepped back and said, "Come on! Stop trying to hit me and hit me!"

Gritting his teeth, the young boy returned to his stance and charge at Revan again with a growl.

+-*/

A lightsaber hilt dropped to the training floor, its emitter lightly smoking but otherwise inactive. Harry had his hands to his knees, his form hunched forward, as he looked up to Revan.

Revan deactivated his lightsaber and dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Adequate," he commented. "Your form faltered several times and you tend to telegraph some of your movements. But you have the presence of mind to protect your blind spots. You also managed to rely on instinct, on feeling, than on thought once or twice. Good," he praised. "That shows a focus on the now."

The environment returned to the white void as Revan said, "You are indeed worthy of being my heir. You are young, you have much more left to learn. You will grow and become stronger in time. Don't forget: one's training in the Force never ends." He paused. "I am opening the rest of the vault to you now. Everything in it is now yours." He looked back down to Harry and continued, "Use its contents however you see fit. And as a holocron, I still have plenty of things to teach you."

Harry gave him a smile. "Yes, Revan. Thank you."

Revan nodded as both of them slowly disappeared from the void. "Now, go, Harry Potter, and remember: the Force will be with you always..."

+-*/

Harry gasped loudly as his ears were suddenly assaulted by the sound of a cart thundering down the cavern outside the vault. He spun around to the vault entrance before looking around wildly. He then turned back to the holocron.

It was glowing.

The vault rumbled as a vault wall split open and slowly moved to the sides, like two concrete curtains being pulled open. Harry's eyes widened as his senses were hit with tremendous Force energy. Crystalline structures littered the inner vault, glowing brighter than the vault sconces on the walls and thrumming with the Force.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Revan's voice asked him. His and Meetra's ghostly forms materialized beside him as he walked into the vault. "It's good to see the crystals grown after all this time."

"You put them here, Revan?" asked Meetra.

He nodded. "I collected a few precious stones in my travels and had a little idea for an experiment. How would Earth's crystals react to being infused with the Force?" He placed a hand on a crystal. "So, I took a handful of them and planted them in the vault. Nature and the Force did the rest." He turned to Harry and said, "I'm proud of you, Harry. You did well in the trial."

He beamed and asked, "Oh! How does that holocron work? It was different from what you told me about a regular holocron."

Revan explained, "That white void is a specialty of the Rakatans. Primarily, they used it to imprison those they deem dangerous." Harry gawked at him but he continued, "But those imprisoned have limited ability to change that white void. So, I combined that with holocron technology to create a sort of virtual reality. When used like a holocron, it will pull in the user's mind into it to be tested. After passing, it will continue to act as a security system but also as the holocron it was meant to be." He then turned to Harry. "So, what is my holocron self's assessment of you?"

Harry told him what the holocron Revan thought of his skills.

Revan nodded. "It's not an inaccurate assessment. There's plenty of room for improvement."

Harry grinned at his master before watching him approach the lone crystal on another pedestal. "Oh, what is that, Revan?"

"This crystal," he said, "is one of my greatest creations. This is the only one of its kind. I call it the Frozen Flame crystal."

Harry's face morphed into one of surprise. "You froze fire?!"

Revan laughed. "Oh, no, no, it's nothing so simple. It's more specific to call it Crystallized Plasma but Frozen Flame sounds better. I used the energy and plasma from the sun powering the Star Forge and crystallized it using the Forge and the Force." He gestured to it. "Go ahead, Harry. Take it. You can use it for your wand."

"Are you sure, Revan? Wouldn't this be better used for a lightsaber?"

"I'm sure," he replied. "I'm quite curious what that wandmaker can do with a material that isn't wood. Besides, if he fails in his task, we can still make use of whatever pieces are left of the crystal."

Harry approached the crystal and took hold of it. "Oh!" he softly exclaimed. "It's warm and cool at the same time!" He turned the crystal in his hands and gave it a closer look.

It was in the shape of a flame, befitting the name, and had an orange glow encased in a clear blue layer of 'ice'.

Looking up at his master, he asked, "And I can use this for my wand?"

He nodded. "Yes."

Harry grinned. "Thank you, Revan!"

+-*/

Harry returned to the main lobby with a happy grin on his face with Slapjaw in tow. Following the goblin back to Grognak, he watched the two goblins converse again before Grognak turned to him.

"So, you are indeed the inheritor of the Revan vault," he said. "We'll update our records accordingly, Mr. Potter." He raised a brow. "Is there anything else you need?"

Harry shook his head. "No, thank you. I think I've got all that I need."

"Very well, Mr. Potter," replied Grognak, nodding his head and watching Harry go to his uncle.

"Are you okay, Uncle Vernon?" asked Harry.

His uncle groaned, "I should be fine, Harry. Are we done here?"

"Yes, we are."

"Good," he said, standing up. "Let's get out of here." He then followed Harry out the bank, both of them unaware of the curious gazes of a few goblins around them. Once they were outside Gringotts, Uncle Vernon shuddered. "I don't like that place at all."

Harry and his uncle barely got to the final step when someone said, "Harry? Is tha' you, Harry?"

Turning, he saw a man larger than his uncle bustling over to them. He had just as large hair and beard as he looked down at Harry with his gleaming, black eyes. "Er...are you talking to me?"

"It is you, Harry!" the giant exclaimed, bounding over to him. "You look like yer dad! And yeh have yer mum's eyes too!"

Harry hesitated. "Umm...I'm sorry. Who are you?"

The giant flushed and he laughed sheepishly. "I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts," he said proudly.

"Pleased to...meet you..." Harry slowly replied.

Hagrid said, "I knew yer mum and dad when they were in Hogwarts. Brightest of the lot, they were! It's good ter see yeh, Harry! Gettin' yer stuff for Hogwarts, I see!" He laughed again. "I wanted to bring yeh but Professor McGonagall beat me to it!"

"Okay...so what are you doing here, Mr. Hagrid?"

Hagrid waved a gigantic hand. "Jus' call me Hagrid, Harry; everyone does." He then puffed his chest proudly. "An' Dumbledore got me doin' summat important for him."

"Ah," said Harry, glancing at the Gringotts bank. "He wants you to get something of his from Gringotts?"

Hagrid nodded. "Aye, he does. Can' tell yeh much other than tha'. Important business, yeh see."

"I see...well...my uncle and I should get going, Hagrid."

"Oh! Sure, Harry, sure," Hagrid said, patting him on the shoulder. "Don' let me stop yeh two!"

Harry winced as his shoulder stung in pain but said, "Have a good day, Hagrid."

"Take care of yerself, Harry," he replied as he walked up the bank, waving the two of them goodbye.

Rubbing his shoulder gently, Harry turned to his wide-eyed and open-mouthed uncle.

"Bloody hell..." Uncle Vernon whispered. He then shook his head and looked at Harry alarmingly. "That man was bloody huge!"

"Er, yes, Uncle Vernon, yes, he was."

"Are-are people like _that_ common around here?!"

"Shh!" Harry snapped in hushed tones. "Don't say things like that! They might hear you!"

"I'm sorry, Harry, but-but, you've got to admit! He wasn't...he wasn't normal!"

"I know he's not, uncle, but you still can't say that!"

Uncle Vernon shook his head wildly. "Mental, this world is."

+-*/

Harry was starting to regret having his uncle come along with him to Diagon Alley. He wouldn't stop staring at the other wizards and witches with their extravagant robes or the odd non-human going about their business. He was thankfully quiet when Harry bought some extra books from Flourish and Blotts.

On the other hand, his uncle was loud when they approached Magical Menagerie.

"Who the ruddy hell takes bats, toads, and rats for pets?!" he had exclaimed while he and Harry stood outside the shop door. Harry winced, mindful of the dirty glares sent his way, before he pulled his uncle aside and decided to put a stop to this before it gets worse.

"Uncle," Harry said, keeping eye contact with him, the Force immediately taking hold of his uncle's mind. "I think it's best if you keep your opinions to yourself. We aren't looking for trouble."

His persuasion was very effective as always. "Harry, I think it's best if I keep my opinions to myself. We aren't looking for trouble."

Nodding, Harry stepped around his uncle to resume his window shopping. True to his persuasion, his uncle didn't open his mouth to verbalize his inner thoughts but his face did scrunch in discomfort every now and then. Harry frowned as he looked into a cage containing a rather big, ginger cat. As the feline looked at him with its squashed face, Harry gave a soft hum. "I think I'll get an owl. I don't think cats or toads are my type." He smiled at the cat and gave it a wave. "Sorry, little guy, but I'm sure someone else will get you out of there." The cat yawned as he stood up and turned to the street, curling up to sleep.

Uncle Vernon trailed after him, following him to the shop Eeylops Owl Emporium. The door dinged as Harry opened it and entered the dark shop.

A bald wizard in a suit turned and smiled. "Ah, welcome to Eeylops Owl Emporium! Are you looking for your first pet for Hogwarts?" Before Harry could say anything, the man's eyes roamed up his forehead and found his scar. "Harry Potter! It's an honor to have you in my shop!"

Harry internally winced. "Please, I'm just a student, sir. There's no need for that."

"Nonsense, Mr. Potter, nonsense!" he exclaimed, ushering the boy into his store. "You've done us all a huge service and it's only right to treat you right!" He turned to his uncle and beamed. "And who might you be, good sir?"

Uncle Vernon looked ruffled at being addressed by an odd person but puffed his chest. "Vernon Dursley," he replied, "I'm Harry's uncle."

The shopkeeper nodded, gesturing towards him as well. "It's a pleasure to meet more of Mr. Potter's family. Muggle, I assume?" When his uncle's face scrunched in discomfort at the name, the man placated him by saying, "Oh, I meant nothing by it, good sir. I welcome you all the same!" He turned back to Harry with his smile. "So, Mr. Potter, how can this humble manager help you today? What kind of owl would you be looking for?"

Harry kept hidden his discomfort and irritation at the reverence the manager was showing and said, "I don't know. I've never had a pet before and this is my first time getting an owl."

"Ah, of course, of course, how silly of me," the manager laughed. "Let me help you with that." He gestured towards the owls in his shop and said, "Here at Eeylops, we have a variety of owls for everyone. Do you prefer a simple, barn owl? Or do you prefer a smaller and nimble Scops owl? Eeylops has everything you could want!"

Harry looked around at the number of owls around him. Some ignored him in favor of sleeping and some kept their gaze on him with their piercing eyes. As his eyes roamed the selection, he couldn't help focusing on the lone snowy owl amidst the flock of browns. Harry furrowed his brows and said, "What about that white owl in the back?"

"Oh, you have a good eye, Mr. Potter!" the manager exclaimed, bustling over to take the cage holding said owl. "This one got here just yesterday. She's a feisty one, quite rowdy when she's awake. I'm not surprised since she's the first snowy owl we've gotten in a really long time. They're not native to Britain, you see, and so we usually don't get them." He smiled at Harry. "Do you want this snowy owl, Mr. Potter?"

As Harry observed the sleeping snowy owl, he said, "Yes. I'll take her." He paid the 15 Galleons for the owl plus extra for the owl food and then left the shop.

"You gotta take good care of that bird, Harry, and clean up after it" Uncle Vernon said as they continued their trek through the Alley. "You know Petunia doesn't like it when things get dirty."

"I know, Uncle Vernon," replied Harry. "Don't worry. She won't be a bother to Aunt Petunia."

His uncle grunted his reply before asking, "So, what's next on your shopping list, Harry?"

"There's only one thing left, Uncle Vernon." He pointed at Ollivander's shop. "I just need to talk to Mr. Ollivander for a wand."

He ignored the feeling of discomfort at the mention of a wand from his uncle and continued to head towards the wandmaker's shop. Once again, he sensed the dense concentration of the Force as he entered. As his uncle took a seat on the lone chair, Harry took a deep breath before calling out, "Hello? Mr. Ollivander?"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," the wandmaker's voice reached his ears, making Harry turn to him and his uncle jump from his seat. "I recall you already have a wand. What other business might you have with me?"

"I wanted to talk more about wands from yesterday."

"I see, I see." His silvery eyes briefly glanced at his uncle before it went back to Harry. "You asked about the possibility of a second wand choosing the wizard. What more do you wish to know?" He paused. "Do you wish to know if there's a second wand that chose you in my shop?"

Harry pursed his lips. "It's...something like that. But it's less of a second wand in your shop and more of a wand made for myself. A custom wand, I mean."

Disapproval emanating from him, Ollivander's eyes narrowed very slightly as he said, "Long have I not crafted a wand using a core or wood provided by my customers. I am not overly fond of that practice."

"Why is that?"

The wandmaker huffed. "When I openly practiced it, wizards and witches tend to bring materials that are common and unrefined. I always said that a feather doesn't make for a good wand core just because it came from their pet bird or that a twig from their family's tree doesn't mean that it is a good match to be the wood for the wand. But they didn't listen; they never do. And when their wands failed them, they quickly discarded those wands and claimed that I cheated them."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Ollivander."

"So, I resolved to take materials from powerful magical creatures and trees and made my wands from them. When my customers bought them, they found that they were more powerful than wands made from the common materials they brought to me with and, eventually, that practice died out in favor of what I have been doing to this day." He shook his head. "Nevertheless, I don't refuse a request to have a wand made custom. But, I will caution you, Harry Potter, that I cannot guarantee the power of such a wand if the materials are not suitable."

Harry nodded. "I understand, Mr. Ollivander. Um...what kind of material can I use for a core or the wood?"

He shrugged. "Any material is theoretically viable as long as it's from a magical source. I use the term 'wand wood' because wood is the most common material for wands; you can find trees quite literally around the world. My grandfather once used a basilisk's fang as the wand case and a phoenix tear as its core. There was even a story among wandmakers about a young man who had a wand crafted from his own bone and blood."

Harry widened his eyes in surprise. "You can use human body parts?!"

"Oh, yes. It's an unclean practice and humans often make for poor source material compared to any other source but it's a practice nonetheless." He narrowed his eyes at Harry. "I sincerely hope you aren't planning to copy that man's example and mutilate yourself just to have a second wand?"

"What? No! That sounds bad." He rummaged in his pack and pulled out the Frozen Flame. "But I was wondering if you can use this."

Ollivander was surprised as he took the crystal and slowly inspected. "My word! What is this, Mr. Potter? I've never seen anything like this."

"I found it in my vault," Harry explained. "The thing it was on said it's called Frozen Flame. I don't know what it's for but I figured I can ask if I can use it for a second wand."

"This would indeed result in a powerful wand. It would be even stronger with a strong core."

Harry scratched his cheek sheepishly. "I...didn't think that far ahead. I was kinda wondering if you have some stuff that you could — oh! Would my hair work?"

"Your...hair?" Ollivander slowly asked.

He grinned. "You said that anything can be made into a wand as long as it's from something magical. And you also said that bone and blood can work. I don't really want to use either one so how does my hair sound?"

"Are you sure about your choice, Mr. Potter? While material from a human is viable, very rarely does it result in a powerful wand. Your crystal is powerful but I do not know what it will do with your hair as the core."

Harry nodded. "Yup! I don't think this happens a lot so I really want to see what would happen. I mean, I want to see it and I also want to have a second want. You know, just in case."

"Very well, Mr. Potter," said Ollivander. "Then I will need a few strands of your hair." When Harry pulled off a few of his hair and handed it to Ollivander. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. It will take me a few days to study this crystal and find a suitable way to reshape it into a wand."

"Alright," Harry said. "Thank you, Mr. Ollivander. How much do I owe you?"

"Seven Galleons."

He blinked in surprise. "Really? Even for a custom wand?"

"If you didn't provide the materials and instead wanted from my stock, it would indeed cost more. However, since you provided both, I charge seven Galleons, no more, no less."

When Harry paid the aforementioned price, he asked, "When would the wand be ready?"

"Expect your new wand to be delivered to you no later than the end of the month," Ollivander replied.

"Okay! Thank you, Mr. Ollivander!"

As Harry and Uncle Vernon left the shop and Ollivander bid them goodbye with a bow behind them, the former said, "And that should be the last thing. We can go home now, Uncle Vernon."

His uncle breathed a sigh of relief as they returned to and left the Leaky Cauldron. "Thank God! I don't know how much of this I can handle! Come on, Harry! We have a long drive ahead of us!"

+-*/

Dumbledore raised his head from his desk as a knock sounded from his door. "Come in."

The door opened and in entered Hagrid, bustling over to him. "I'm back, Professor Dumbledore, sir!"

He gave a smile. "Ah, Hagrid, welcome back. I trust you were able to get what I requested?"

Hagrid reached into his coat and pulled out a small bag, which he put on Dumbledore's desk. "Here it is!"

Dumbledore took the package and put it in his desk before looking up at him. "Thank you again, Hagrid."

"Oh! Yeh'll never guess who I met earlier today, sir!"

He raised a brow. "And who is it that you met today?"

"I met Harry coming from Gringotts!"

Now, both brows rose. "Harry?" he asked. "Harry Potter?"

"Yessir! He was there with a large tub of a Muggle, who was very rude. He kept starin' at me and all!" Hagrid huffed. "It's like he hasn't seen a half-giant before!"

"I surmise that Mr. Potter's uncle indeed has never seen a half-giant before, Hagrid. So his reaction is to be expected." He paused. "Young Harry came from Gringotts with his uncle, you say? Did he say why?"

Hagrid scratched his beard. "I don't think we talked about tha'."

"I hope he doesn't plan on spending more of his money frivolously just a day after finding out about his vault. That'd be irresponsible of him. Hopefully, his uncle would control his expenditures. If you didn't talk about Mr. Potter's reasons for being there, what did you talk about?"

"Oh? I told him tha' you wanted me to get something from Gringotts for yeh."

"Oh, dear," said Dumbledore. "Hagrid, I surely hope you didn't tell him about the Stone?"

"Of course not, sir! I kept meself quiet when he wanted to know more."

"That's good. Still, be careful when talking with others, Hagrid."

"Eh, I'll try my best next time, sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "That's all I ask, Hagrid. You may go." He watched Hagrid leave his office before he returned to his work.

+-*/

When Harry and Uncle Vernon returned to 4 Privet Drive, Aunt Petunia opened the door to greet them.

"Welcome back, Vernon, Ha — why do you have a ruddy owl?!" she exclaimed immediately after noticing the caged owl in Harry's hands.

"Oh," Harry said. "I bought her. I figured I might as well since the letter said I could. Isn't she beautiful?" The owl lifted her head to glare at his aunt for waking her from her nap before covering her head with her wing again.

Aunt Petunia bit her lip as she glared back at the snowy owl in turn. "That thing is staying in your room and you are cleaning up after it."

Harry nodded. "Yes, Aunt Petunia, thank you." He brought his bought stuff inside the house and up to his bedroom. He grinned as Revan and Meetra materialized in front of him. "That was a good day!"

Meetra smiled with him while Revan nodded at him. He then said, "All that's left to do now is wait." Both of his masters looked at each other before back at him. "Take a seat, Harry. Meetra and I have something to tell you."

Harry's brows furrowed as he did as told and sat on his bed. "Um...okay?"

"We talked about gifting you something to commemorate your being officially chosen as my heir in the vault."

Harry's eyes gleamed in anticipation. "Really!? What is it?!"

"It's not something you didn't know before; it's not something new to you. After all, we've shared a few stories about it and, if I recall, you had a chance to use it in the holocron virtual world."

Those same eyes widened in shock. _No way!_

"So, Meetra and I agreed that you are ready" – _Yes way!_ – "to start building" – _Yes! _– "your own lightsaber."

_YES!_

+-*/

Read and Review!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Star Wars.

Beta'd by HowInMadHowie.

+-*/

Chapter 5: Birthdays and Projects

+-*/

A grin remained on Harry's face for an entire week. How could he not be so happy? His masters just told him he was ready to start building his own lightsaber! He always wanted to have one ever since they told him about it in all their stories.

After all, who wouldn't want to wield a blade of plasma that can cut through virtually anything and deflect bolts of energy? He wanted it more after he fought against the virtual Revan in the virtual world with a virtual lightsaber. The hilt and blade may have been virtual but it was still awesome!

The first thing Revan had him do was retrieve the basic blueprint of a lightsaber from his holocron. Harry should be annoyed that he had to go back to Diagon Alley a _third_ time but he didn't care. His third trip was the trip he was even more looking forward to than his previous two trips. The goblins were clearly disgruntled that he came back to Gringotts again in such a short span of time but Harry was undeterred. Revan told him to get the basic lightsaber blueprint from his holocron and, by the Force, he would go get it!

_"Oh, have the holocron disengage the security system on the wall," Revan instructed him after the holocron dispensed a datapad for Harry. "There's no need for the security anymore since it's already done its purpose and found you as my heir. Afterwards, you can remove its power cell and use it for your lightsaber."_

Harry raised the small power cell in front of his face, observing it intently. It looked almost similar to Earth's batteries but he could feel the energy contained within; it felt a lot more powerful than the power sources he came across in Earth.

Revan explained that the batteries of the planet pale in comparison to the power cells known to the vast galaxy. He expanded that, while the batteries of Earth were compatible enough to power a lightsaber, they didn't have the lasting power that these diatium power cells have, even with the help of lightsaber crystals.

Putting the power cell down on his desk, he turned his focus to the datapad the holocorn provided him. Taking it in his hands, he started to skim through its contents. As expected, the lightsaber blueprint was written inside it. However, there were also plenty of documents in it. Some were about the teachings of the Jedi and others, the teachings of the Sith. There were also a few documents that seemed way too complicated for him just from the title alone.

So, he wouldn't dwell on these other texts for too long. Harry was sure his masters would let him know when he was ready to start studying them. Instead, he went back to the lightsaber blueprint and started studying it. Already, he could see the lightsaber's intricacy and the parts needed to build one. Below the cross section of a lightsaber was a list of the parts and what they do.

He finished skimming through it and looked up at Revan. "I don't need to know everything little thing in here, do I?"

His arms crossed, Revan replied, "You need to know enough to be able to make these parts for your own lightsaber."

Harry's face scrunched in confusion. "So how would I get the parts? I don't remember seeing any of them in the vault."

"That's because I didn't bring them. A lightsaber is a personal item for both Jedi and Sith. If their master desires, they can provide a few basic pieces—like the power cell—but the lightsaber as a whole is unique to each wielder. So, you are responsible for the rest of its construction, such as the parts and the material to build them with."

"Oh," said Harry, trailing off in thought. "So, I can choose what metal to use for my lightsaber or what it would look like?"

Both his masters nodded. Meetra continued, "You will need to think deeply about your choices, especially with some Earth's metals being of different quality than that of a standard lightsaber. You will also need to make your own design from the blueprints Revan gave you."

Harry nodded to show he understood but he nonetheless asked, "Is there any special reason why students build their own lightsabers?"

"It's a rite of passage," replied Revan. "Padawans show that they are ready for the next part of their training by creating their own lightsabers. The process takes months to complete as the padawan takes time to choose a material, makes the parts from that material, and meditates on each part."

Harry furrowed his brows, muttering, "Meditates?"

"As I said earlier, a lightsaber is a personal item. It is more than just a mere weapon or tool. When a lightsaber is completed, it is now a part of you. It is an extension of you. You have a bond with it and it with you."

Harry's eyes brightened. "Oh! It's like the wands that Mr. Ollivander said?"

Meetra nodded, smiling at him. "It's similar in concept. The difference is that lightsabers are not – what did he call it? – quasi-sentient. They're not capable of 'acting independently of its wielder.' But they are bonded to you in such a way that no other wand or lightsaber can match. You can wield another lightsaber but it will not feel right. It won't be as comfortable as it would be using your own."

"Besides," added Revan, a knowing look on his face, "you seemed really excited about building a lightsaber." Harry's cheeks reddened. "Why would I cheapen the experience by giving you everything you need to build it?"

Controlling his cheeks, Harry said, "I think I get it, Revan. Thanks." He looked down at the blueprint again and furrowed his brows. "You said that I should make my own design using this as a template. Does that mean I need to draw?"

Looking amused, Meetra replied, "Yes, Harry. Making a design usually implies drawing."

"Aw, man," Harry murmured. "I haven't drawn anything since St. Grogory."

She softly laughed. "Then this would be a good time to start drawing again, wouldn't it?" Harry groaned, making her laugh again. "There's a reason why building a lightsaber takes months, Harry."

"I know, I know." Harry restarted reading the blueprint, studying it intensely. Then, he spoke, "Well, I should probably plan how to get this done, huh?"

"That is the wisest decision, Harry," replied Revan, letting him do things at his own pace. "What do you have in mind?"

Lowering the datapad, Harry's face scrunched in thought. "The letter says that classes start at the first of September. So, that gives me the month of August and the last few days of July to make a design and get started on building it." He paused. "How would I even have the parts made?"

Revan suggested, "Perhaps your uncle has connections with other manufacturing companies."

Meetra then added, "Or you can look into who in the Wizarding world is capable of smithing."

Harry nodded. "I'm sure the books I have would have something."

"Now, go, Harry," ordered Revan. "Study the schematic; meditate on it. Then, you can start on making a design for it."

He gave an eager salute. "Yes, master!"

+-*/

Harry spent the next few days doing exactly that. He pored over the datapad most of the day, only leaving for food but quickly returning after eating. If he wasn't studying the schematic, he was either meditating or training. His aunt and uncle were, of course, worried and expressed their concerns over his behavior but Harry told them that he's fine and that he's only working on a project that needed most of his attention.

He drummed his fingers on his desk as he looked down at his drawing of his lightsaber. It was...rudimentary, if he had to judge it. It wasn't horrid by any means – Dudley's skill in drawing was far, _far_ inferior to his – but it was no work of art either. He wasn't about to give up, though. It was all practice, practice, practice, after all. If he didn't like his work, he would have to try again.

Frowning, he crumpled his current drawing, throwing it to the bin after. He took out another piece of paper and restarted his drawing.

"How are you doing so far, Harry?" asked Meetra, peering at his drawing over his shoulder.

"I can say for sure that it's still a work in progress," he replied, not raising his head to look at her. "I already have the design for the hilt but I'm still having trouble with the inner workings." He exhaled as he put his head in his hands and narrowed his eyes at the blank paper. "It's like I'm missing something and I don't know what that 'something' is!"

She sighed and walked around him. Leaning on his table and crossing her arms, she said, "Harry, you will run into these kinds eventually. You can't avoid it. If you're having a mental block, the best course of action is to take a break and retry another time."

Harry sat up and exhaled deeply. "You think so?"

She smiled at him. "You'll only frustrate yourself further if you keep forcing through your mental block without taking a break."

He slumped in his seat, his form relaxing. "You're...you're right, Meetra. I probably should take a break."

Meetra's smile turned to a playful grin. "Oh, I don't think you taking a break will be an issue."

Harry furrowed his brows in confusion as his female master disappeared from view. _What did she mean by that?_ Then, he was caught off-guard by the loud proclamation of 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!' that accompanied his aunt, uncle, and cousin's entrance to his room. Letting out a shout of surprise, he jumped off his chair and spun around in alarm, his eyes wide and his hands raised defensively. Off to the side, his snowy owl snapped awake at the ruckus and made a ruckus of her own, barking loudly and flapping her wings wildly.

She, however, was ignored by the four humans in the room.

Harry's relatives smiled widely at him. His aunt held a plate with a slice of cake topped by a single lit candle, his cousin approached and patted him roughly on the shoulder, and his uncle heaved a few wrapped gifts and put them down on the floor beside him.

"Wh-what?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" greeted Dudley, giving him yet another pat.

"It-it's my birthday?"

Aunt Petunia put her free hand to her hip, her lips pursed. "Don't tell me you forgot it's your birthday, Harry. We've only celebrated it for the past ten years."

"I guess I was distracted by my project," Harry absently replied.

"Duh!" Dudley deadpanned, glancing briefly at his desk before looking at Harry. "What is this project anyway, Harry? We don't even have summer homework!"

Turning around to face his desk, Harry patted the datapad and notepad. "It's not summer homework; it's a personal project, Dudley. Don't worry about it. I might ask Uncle Vernon's help later but it's still a work in progress."

Deeming it too much trouble to try and comprehend, Dudley simply said, "Oh, okay," and stepped back to allow his mother to step forward.

Aunt Petunia offered the plate with the cake slice to Harry and said, "Here you go, Harry. There's more downstairs."

Blinking, Harry stared at the cake and accepted it. He smiled as he stared at the candle flickering atop the cake and snuffed the flame with a brief gust from his lips. Harry then raised his head to his relatives and said, "Thanks, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, Dudley."

"Of course, Harry! You don't think we'd forget your birthday, do you?" Uncle Vernon barked loudly, ruffling his hair. Then, he gestured to the gifts. "I know that you didn't ask for a gift for the past ten years but I figured I should get you something this year anyway. You know, because you got accepted into a school." He huffed. "It may be an _abnormal_ school but it's still a school. Petunia said that her sister said that the school doesn't have computers or technology or whatsits so I got you one for your birthday!"

Harry's eyes widened. He never really thought about getting a computer since most of his free time was spent on meditating and training. He didn't have a use for one and the times that he had a use was at school, where they had a whole bunch set up for the students. As for gaming, Dudley was more than willing to let him play the few times he felt like it. If what Aunt Petunia said was true and Hogwarts didn't have technology, then he would most definitely need a computer now.

He knelt down in front of the gifts and unwrapped them all. Apparently, his uncle took the liberty of buying not only a computer but the accessories along with it. He opened the boxes for the monitor, keyboard, and mouse alongside the computer itself. He knew that this gesture was mostly due to the power of the Force influencing his uncle (and aunt and cousin) to treat him as a member of the family but he was touched all the same that they did this for him.

Harry turned to his relatives and gave them a wide smile. "Thanks, Uncle Vernon."

Beaming and puffing his chest proudly, his uncle said, "You're welcome, Harry! It's really no problem at all! And don't be afraid to come to me after you're done with that project of yours. I'll do what I can." Uncle Vernon put an arm around Harry's shoulder and pulled him out of the room. "Come on, Harry. Petunia made breakfast for our birthday boy!"

Harry blinked owlishly at him, not resisting his uncle pulling him out of his room. "Sure, Uncle Vernon," he said.

"After that, though," his uncle said with a grin, "we can get started on your new computer."

After breakfast found Harry and his uncle preparing to set up the former's computer.

"So, Harry," his uncle said while he was fiddling with the cables. "What's this project you wanted my help with?"

Harry replied, "You have some friends in your work that do construction and manufacturing, don't you, Uncle Vernon?"

"I do. I've made plenty of business deals with them as a matter of fact!"

Smiling, Harry said, "My project needs a little bit of manufacturing."

His uncle turned to him and stared. "That's a bit big for small project, Harry."

"I didn't say the project was small, Uncle Vernon," corrected Harry.

Grunting, Uncle Vernon returned to setting up the computer, fitting the computer under his desk before setting up the monitor. "It still seems a bit of a big project for you."

"Oh, I know," Harry said, handing the cables to his uncle. "But this is something I really want to get done as soon as possible."

His uncle grunted again, straining a bit while beneath Harry's desk. Vernon didn't reply until he got out. Turning to Harry, he gruffly asked, "Well, what is this project anyway?"

Harry picked up the notepad he put on his bed while they set up the computer and said, "It's a bit...complicated, Uncle Vernon."

Uncle Vernon sniffed and crossed his arms. "I doubt it's _that_ complicated, Harry."

"I first need a metal," explained Harry. "Do you know one that is light but tough?"

"You'll have to be more specific, Harry." His uncle turned back to the computer, setting up the keyboard and mouse. "There's a lot of metals like that: aluminium and titanium, to name a few."

"I might have to look up those metals before I can make a choice. I mean, I'm not yet done with the design, after all."

"Well, tell me when you get it done. Anything that needs manufacturing will take time, especially with those kinds of metals." Then, he turned to Harry with a grin. "Your computer's all set up! All that's left now is to turn it on and give it a few finishing touches!'

Harry returned his grin, eager to get started on his new computer as soon as possible. Harry watched his uncle install all the necessary software on his computer and then turn to him.

"Alright! It's ready!"

"Thanks, Uncle Vernon," thanked Harry, smiling at him.

"You're welcome, Harry." Vernon clapped him on the shoulder as he stood up and walked to the door. "You can look up which metal you want to use here and then you can tell me when you make a decision."

"I will, Uncle Vernon. Thanks," Harry replied, watching his uncle leave the room, before he fell back on his bed, a happy grin on his face.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," Revan greeted, appearing before him.

Beside him, Meetra kept her teasing grin. "Happy Birthday," she said. "And surprise."

Sitting up, Harry grinned at them, got off the bed, and gave them a hug. "Thanks, you guys."

"You're welcome, Harry," replied Revan, giving him a small pat on the shoulder. "But you might want to address your owl; she's been glaring at us since your relatives barged in here."

Eyes widening, Harry turned to his snowy owl, who had quieted down but nonetheless gave him a sharp glare. "I'm so sorry about that, girl! I forgot you were sleeping when they came in." When his owl barked indignantly, he raised his hands in placation. "There, there, girl. I'll try not to do that again."

Seeing the owl's glare not subside in the slightest, Meetra chuckled, "It seems your owl won't let it go that easily, Harry."

Harry grimaced as his owl flap her wings wildly, rattling her cage. "I'm really sorry about that. I didn't mean to forget you like that, girl. I was just focusing too much on the project." The owl glared at him, as if to say 'that was obvious.' He approached the cage, opened the door, and slowly put his hand in and to her. When she didn't react to it, he proceeded further and started scratching her head. "I'll try not to do that again," he promised, watching his owl slowly lose her glare and begin to purr softly under his ministrations.

Sighing, Harry looked at his owl, a sudden thought forming. _I probably should think of a name for her; I can't keep calling her 'my owl'._ He then said, "What would be a good name for her?"

Raising a brow, Revan asked, "For your owl?"

Harry nodded. "Yup. Now's a good time as any before I get too carried away and focus on the lightsaber again."

Meetra amusedly said, "Yes, that's a good idea." She tilted her head in thought, glancing at Harry's trunk. "Perhaps one of your books would have some suggestions? Revan and I aren't really the best at names."

Revan turned to her, an affronted look on his face. "Excuse me?"

She looked back at him and raised a brow. "Was Mandalore lying when he said that you named yourself 'Avner' while looking for his mask?" When he coughed into his hand sheepishly, she continued, "And, if I remember correctly, your wife shared your _creativity_ in names when she named your son 'Vaner'."

Revan sighed. "Fine." He turned to Harry. "She has a point, Harry. One of those books is bound to have some good names. Perhaps that history book of yours would be a good start."

Harry nodded before he did as told and pulled out _A History of Magic_. He brainstormed with his masters and his owl for a bunch of names he found in the book.

Rowena, Helga, and Bathilda, Meetra decided, sounded too old for a young owl. Revan deemed Circe and Morgana unfit to be chosen given their dark history. Harry agreed with him; the name of a dark witch wasn't a good name for the snowy owl of an eleven-year-old boy.

Eventually, Harry stopped offering names, slowly being absorbed by the book and tuning out everything else. He idly skimmed through the pages when he suddenly said, "Oh, here's a good name: Hedwig. She was a German witch – a saint, at that – who helped, sheltered, and protected orphans of the time."

His masters debated it in their heads before nodding.

"I agree," said Revan. "It's a strong sounding name."

Meetra turned to his owl and smiled. "What do you think? Does Hedwig sound good?"

The owl flapped her wings and nodded, puffing her chest proudly and making Meetra laugh.

"She likes it," she said. "I guess we have a winner. Hedwig, it is then."

Harry closed his book, put it on the table, and held out an arm for his owl, Hedwig, to perch on. "Hey, Hedwig," he said, smiling at her. "I'm Harry. We're going to be spending a lot of time together so let's make the best of it, yeah?"

When she gave a soft hoot, Harry raised his hand and stroked her feathered head. Hedwig purred under his touch again, tilting her head into his hand.

"Let's take a look at the pamphlet the owl emporium gave me for buying you." Harry walked over to his trunk and shuffled through his things until he pulled out the small piece of folded parchment that came with his purchase of Hedwig. "Let's see..." he said, perusing the pamphlet.

_Ins and Outs of Owl Care_

_So, you, dear customer, have just bought an owl! Whether you are a first year student getting one for the first time, a wizard looking for a friend in an owl, or an owner wanting to have more owls; you need to have the know-how for your owl to kowtow to impress your friends when you join a powwow!_

_That's where_ Ins and Outs of Owl Care_ comes in! With our help, you won't have a problem taking care of your owl and will forge a bond that will last for life! And it starts by making sure you have the best environment for your owl._

_Owls are proud creatures, eager to serve their witch and wizard for all their postal needs and accepting no substitute. And with that pride comes a need for a home befitting their nature. So, what do you need?_

_Firstly, you need a house with open windows. Owls are proud creatures but they are nonetheless creatures of the air; they want the opportunity to spread their wings and take a trip to the outdoors. So, they don't take kindly to being confined in a closed space for a long time. They will find their way back to you so you don't have to worry about them flying off, leaving you behind!_

_Secondly, you need to know what owls eat. Owls are birds of prey so they hunt other animals for food. Of course, if they can't hunt for their food, they won't say no to meat from your dining table. And if all else fails, there is always _Eeylops Premium Owl Treats_ sold by yours truly for 15 Sickles a pop!_

And the list went on further, Harry read; detailing how to clean up after your owl, how to groom your owl, and so on. He quickly skimmed through it before putting it down on the table. Giving Hedwig a grin, he said, "Alright. I think I know how to take care of you now, Hedwig."

She seemed pleased by his newly-acquired knowledge on owl care and she flapped her wings happily.

Harry laughed and scratched Hedwig's head again. Then, he lowered her on the table before he stood and walked to his dresser.

Revan asked, "Going somewhere, Harry?"

"Yup," replied Harry while he searched through his clothes. "Meetra suggested I take a break since I hit a little roadblock with the design. I figured I'd do it on my birthday."

Meetra nodded and smiled. "Good. You really need a break. Enjoy the rest of the day, Harry."

"Thanks, Meetra," he said, feeling her disappear from the room to give him privacy. Picking his clothes, he turned to Revan and said, "You don't mind, right?"

Revan blinked at him. "What don't I mind?"

"Me taking a break."

A brow rose. "What kind of teacher do you think I am? You're more than welcome to take breaks whenever you wish. We surely can't stop you. Besides, if I recall, you were the one always asking for more training and lessons; we simply obliged."

Harry blushed and scratched his cheek sheepishly. "Ah...I was, wasn't I?"

Revan let out a soft laugh, standing and walking to him. Putting a ghostly hand to his shoulder, he said, "You are young, Harry. Don't forget to enjoy your youth. Pursuit of knowledge is always a worthy goal but don't make it your sole focus."

Harry smiled. "I understand. Thanks, Revan."

"Now, away with you. You have a birthday to enjoy and it won't happen here alone in your room filled with technology, notes, two ghosts, and an owl."

Harry gave him a small hug. "Yes, sir!"

+-*/

Harry and Hedwig returned home just before lunch. He closed the door behind him and called out, "I'm back!"

Aunt Petunia spoke from the kitchen, "Welcome back, Harry. Did you have a good walk?"

"Yup. It was a nice day outside."

"That's nice, dear," replied his aunt. "You should freshen up while I get lunch ready."

"Okay!" Harry went up to his bedroom and let Hedwig rest on her cage before he took a quick bath and went down to lunch.

Finishing his lunch, Harry helped his aunt clean up before he went back to his room. He tended to his owl briefly while he booted up his computer.

He looked out his window when he sensed something small coming towards him from afar. Even at a distance, Harry could see that it was an owl, a brown barn owl, carrying a wrapped package in its talons and a letter in its beak.

The owl flew in through his window and landed on his desk.

"Hello," Harry greeted conversationally. "Is this for me?"

It dropped the letter and let out an affronted hoot.

Harry raised a hand. "Sorry, sorry, stupid question, I know." He smiled moving forward to untie the parcel from the owl's leg. "Thank you. Would you like a treat or a drink before you go?"

After the owl took a drink from Hedwig's water bowl, it flew off out his window and into the distance, an owl treat clutched in its beak.

Looking down, Harry took the letter in his hands and read who it was from. "It's from Mr. Ollivander!" he exclaimed.

_To Mr. Potter,_

_Forgive the delay with your custom-made wand. The crystal material was unlike anything I've ever seen before and needed special handling lest it break under my usual methods of shaping materials. Thankfully, in the end, I managed to shape your crystal and imbue it with the strands of hair you provided._

_Remarkably, your crystal took to your hair quite well. It didn't diminish the properties of the crystal, like I expected. Instead, it accepted your hair as its core almost immediately. It's almost as if the crystal was specifically designed for you._

_Nevertheless, as transacted, this box contains your new wand. Seven inches, crystal material, and human hair core. It will serve you well. Given that I am delivering this to you on your birthday, I took the liberty of crafting wand holsters for both your wands, free of charge. Consider it my gift for your birthday – among your other accomplishments – to you, Mr. Potter._

_Wishing you well and a happy birthday,_

_Garrick Ollivander_

_Ollivanders_

_Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._

Harry grinned wide, putting the letter aside and taking the box in his hands. "My wand's here!" he exclaimed, tearing away the paper wrapping and opening the box within. His eyes shone eagerly as he took out his new wand. He raised it in front of his face and studied Mr. Ollivander's handiwork.

It was transparent, shining with a light blue hue. Underneath the ice-like surface, he could see his hairs laid end to end from base to tip at the center. The golden color within the frozen shell gave the impression that the hair was glowing within the wand.

"Wow," Harry said in awe. "Mr. Ollivander really did a great job with this. Look at it! It's so beautiful!"

"Indeed," said Revan, appearing over his shoulder. "That wandmaker proved his accolades true." He nodded after appraising the wand. "You will need to meditate on it to further bind it to you and make it stronger in the Force."

Harry turned to Revan, his brows furrowed, and asked, "Even though it's been turned into a wand?"

His master nodded. "Yes. Any crystal designed for a lightsaber needs to be meditated on. Jedi and Sith spend days meditating with their crystals. Normally, it's to imbue it with the Force. In this case, though, it's already imbued with it but you could say that it hasn't been bound to you properly yet."

Harry looked down at his crystal wand before back up at Revan, a contemplative look on his face. "What about my phoenix wand? What would happen if I meditated on it the same way I should with the crystal one?"

Revan shrugged. "I don't know. No one has ever meditated with wands before. Even among those who use Sith sorcery I've encountered, none of them used sticks infused with animal parts in their arts. And the Jedi and Sith most definitely don't use wands when lightsabers and their own command of the Force serves them just as well. So, if you wish to meditate on both your crystal and phoenix wands, you are free to do so."

Grinning again, Harry rushed to his trunk and fished out his phoenix wand. Holding his first wand in one hand, he held out his other and pulled the crystal wand to him. He took a seat in the middle of his room, a wand in each hand. He then closed his eyes and controlled his breathing, entering the realm of meditation.

The wands slowly floated off his hands and started revolving around him. He reached out through the Force and towards his wands, touching the spark of the Force within them. Both wands reciprocated his bond and Harry, falling deeper into meditation, felt their warmth (befitting the materials they consisted of; one having a phoenix feather and the other being made of frozen flame) seep into his body.

When he woke up from his meditation, the sun was halfway through disappearing on the horizon. Harry looked down at his hands; his wands had returned to his grasp. He groaned as he stood up. Then, he let out a wince as feeling tried to return to his legs. "Ow ow ow," Harry groaned, putting a hand to his desk to support himself. "That wasn't comfortable at all."

"Welcome to the life of a Jedi, Harry," chuckled Meetra from his bed. "It's not always fun and glamours."

"You don't say," Harry murmured under his breath while he put his wands on his desk. He groaned again as he sat on the chair and reached towards the opened box. "Let's see these wand holsters that Mr. Ollivander made for me." He pulled out two small leather holsters from the box and smiled. "These things look quite nice," he appraised. "These look like it'll fit onto my belt."

"Good," Revan said. "They'll do nicely. I don't know why your school supplies list didn't include these holsters or why that wandmaker didn't offer it the first time you went there. Where do they expect you to store your wands during school term?"

"In their pockets?" asked Harry helpfully.

Revan scoffed. "You don't give someone a weapon, have them place it in their pocket, and expect them to be safe with it. There's a reason why ranged weapons have holsters. If those things go off, a lost limb would be the least of your problems."

Harry grimaced. "Yeah. That doesn't sound good at all." His grimace turned to a smile when he looked down at the holsters. "I should write Mr. Ollivander a thank you letter before I go back to drawing." He quickly wrote the letter and sent Hedwig off to deliver it before he turned his attention back to his lightsaber design with determined eyes. The birthday break he took and the meditation he just went through had given him clarity and with that clarity came ideas. And with those ideas, he would put them into paper until he had a design he was happy with.

+-*/

The month of August went by quickly for Harry. Most of it was spent on meditating with his wands and drawing with intense focus. As Meetra suggested, he took breaks every now and then and he came back from them with his mind clearer than before. By the middle of the month, he had drawn and thrown out three garbage bins full of dismissed drawings.

When the last week of August came, Harry raised a piece of paper in the air and let out a whoop of joy. "I got it!" he exclaimed. "I got it done!" He turned around in his seat and grinned wide. "Revan! Meetra! I finished it!"

Both his masters smiled at him as he rushed to them with his drawing in hand.

Revan chuckled, "Congratulations, Harry. Why don't you tell us what you had in mind?"

Still grinning, Harry presented his drawing to them and started explaining. "...and this little slot here is where I'll put my crystal lightsaber to use as its primary crystal," he finished. "So it makes it easy for me to take it out when I want to use the wand and just as easy to put it in when I want to use the lightsaber."

Meetra put a hand to her chin and said, "Well, that's certainly a unique design, Harry, an interesting concept incorporating your crystal wand into your lightsaber."

Harry nodded cheerily. "Thanks, Meetra! I actually can't believe I got it done! Now, the next step is to have Uncle Vernon start building the parts!" He would have to wait until his uncle got home from work to get the chance to talk to him but that was fine. Harry could wait; he had plenty of things to do until then, like reading his school books.

Harry flipped through the pages of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _with one hand while he stroked Hedwig's head with the other. His owl purred under his touch, not minding that his attention was split between her and his books. Idly, he heard the sound of a car door closing and he paused his reading to extend his senses: his uncle just got home.

Closing his book, Harry bid goodbye to his owl for the moment and left his room to head downstairs and to the kitchen, where his uncle tended to head to after work. Uncle Vernon was sitting at the kitchen table when Harry entered the kitchen.

"Hey, Uncle Vernon," greeted Harry.

His uncle raised his head and turned to him. "Oh, hello, Harry," he replied.

Harry joined his uncle on the kitchen table and said, "Do you remember what we talked about a few weeks ago? About the metal for my project?"

Uncle Vernon blinked. "I was wondering what happened to that. What did you have in mind, Harry?"

"I have the design ready," Harry explained. "All I need is to have the parts built. I was hoping you could help me with that."

"I'll do my best, Harry. I'm sure I can get some of my people onto your project without a problem. So what metal did you end up picking, Harry?"

"Well," Harry started, "I'm thinking of having the project be built with titanium and I need someone to make the parts."

"Titanium?" asked his uncle, his brows furrowing. "That won't be easy to get. It'll be mighty expensive."

Harry frowned before saying, "If it's a money issue, uncle, it'll be fine. I have two vaults to my name in Gringotts. I can convert the gold and stuff there to pounds and you can use that."

His uncle frowned as well and looked at his wife at the stove. She looked back at him in turn and shrugged.

"It's his money, Vernon," she replied. "Let him use it how he wants." She then raised a brow at Harry and asked, "As long as you know what you're doing with it?"

Harry smiled and nodded at her. "I do, Aunt Petunia. I've spent weeks thinking on this and I'm just as sure as I was back then."

"Then, go ahead and do as he asks, Vernon," she said, turning back to her husband. "Harry hasn't asked for anything for the past eleven years. We should indulge him his first request after so long."

"By the way, Harry," his uncle interjected, "why did you want my help with your project? Don't _their_ kind have people that can do the work for you?"

He grimaced. "I don't know everything about the Wizarding world's metal business but I know of very few who can make the parts. The goblins, the ones from the bank, are one of those few. But, according to the book I read, goblins think that the stuff they make is strictly theirs and not the people who bought and paid for them. If they're going to think like that, I don't want them making the parts. Dwarves are another but they're far up north; I really don't want to go that far. Elves seemed like a good choice but most of them hid in the forests and away from the cities. No one has seen a full elf for years and the only elves that are properly documented are house-elves, which are more servants than smiths."

His uncle sniffed, muttering derisively, "Count on _their_ lot to not even have a decent manufacturing business. It's no wonder they're stuck with no electricity. Well, thanks for trusting me, Harry. I'll get right on it. It might take a while but I'll guarantee that you get the best parts for your money. If not..." He let the threat hang, promising hell to those who wouldn't give him the results he asked for.

Harry smiled at him. "Thanks, Uncle Vernon! Just tell me how much titanium costs and I'll have the money ready for you as soon as I can!"

+-*/

The goblins of Gringotts were starting to question whether Harry Potter was a mischief maker or was just forgetful because there was _no_ logical reason as to why he had returned to Gringotts for the _fourth bloody time_! They kept quiet when he entered their halls and approached an open teller but they sneered in derision.

"Hello," Harry said to the goblin teller.

The goblin steepled his fingers and peered down at him. "I see you're back again, Mr. Potter. What can Gringotts do for you this time?"

Harry scratched his cheek sheepishly. "Yeah. I must be a weird customer, huh?" Harry then took out a piece of paper and put it on the teller's desk. "Really sorry about this but I need to withdraw this amount and have it converted to British pounds."

Raising a brow, the goblin read the paper before looking back at Harry. "Are you aware of how much you're going to withdraw, Mr. Potter?"

He nodded. "I am." He paused. "Ah...can you not tell anyone about this? I don't want anyone asking what I'm going to do with this much money."

The goblin's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared subtly. "Gringotts respects client confidentiality, Mr. Potter. Unless you violate the law or you give your express permission, only you will know what you use with your gold."

Harry gulped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound disrespectful."

The goblin snorted but didn't push the issue further. "How do you want this money transferred after withdrawal and conversion?"

"Transfer it to my Muggle bank account," Harry replied.

The goblin nodded and pulled out a piece of parchment. Handing it to Harry, he said, "Fill out this form."

Harry looked down at the form. It was to let Gringotts know the details of the Muggle banking institution that would receive the money transfer. He filled it out quickly and gave it back to the teller.

"Everything seems to be in order. Expect the transfer within three business days." The goblin peered down at Harry. "Is there anything else you'd like from Gringotts, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shook his head. "That's everything for now. Thank you." He thought to himself before grinning at the teller. "This will most likely be last visit for a while. You won't see me again for another year." _Hopefully_, he added in his head as he turned to leave the bank. He ignored the snort from the goblin as he left, understanding their skepticism.

+-*/

After getting the money and paying his uncle, Harry let him deal with the business end of the manufacturing process. He trusted his uncle to get the job done. Or rather, he trusted the Force's influence over his uncle to get it done. So, that left him more time to read more of his books. While he read, Hedwig took flights in the night, returning later with a dead animal in her beak. Harry always praised her for hunting on her own before reminding her of her aunt's policy regarding cleanliness.

When September 1st came, Harry was giddy with anticipation. He forwent changing into his robes until he was on the train; it wouldn't do well to look out of place in a Muggle train station by dressing so formally (especially with school robes). While his uncle heaved his trunk into the car's boot, Harry decided to bring Hedwig with him in the car seat during their long trip to London.

When Uncle Vernon finally got into the car, Harry had neatly set Hedwig's cage on his lap, his owl quietly watching the humans preparing to leave.

"You all ready, Harry?" asked his uncle while he put on his seat belt.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"Right, then. We have a long drive ahead of us. Let's not waste time!"

They arrived at King's Cross Station by ten. His uncle helped Harry heave his trunk onto a cart and push the cart into the station. As Harry expected, the sight of an owl in a cage atop his trunk drew some eyes but none evolved past curious looks. When they got to platforms nine and ten, they stopped in front of a wall, where the plastic numbers were placed indicating which platform was which. One had the number nine, the other had ten.

Harry tilted his head and pursed his lips. "You said I just need to run at the wall to get to Platform 9 3/4, right, Aunt Petunia?"

His aunt huffed, crossing her arms. "Yes. Your train to that school is through there." She pulled out the ticket from her purse and handed it to Harry. "Here's your ticket, Harry."

"Oh! Thanks, Aunt Petunia." Harry took the ticket and gave her a brief hug.

"Now, be careful while you're at that school, Harry," she reminded him. "I don't know what kind of freakishness goes on up there but it's certainly isn't safe."

Harry smiled at her, nodding. "I understand, Aunt Petunia. I'll be careful."

She sniffed and gestured to the wall with her chin. "Well...off with you, Harry. We'll see you at the end of the year."

Harry took the cart from his uncle's hands and positioned himself in front of the wall. Giving his aunt and uncle one final wave, he started running towards the wall. Instead of colliding with the hard surface, he phased through it, his vision filled with blackness, before coming out on the other side.

Much like his experience with Diagon Alley, Harry was suddenly blanketed by an abundance of life and energy, the Force brimming strongly around him. He exhaled deeply to recenter himself and refocused on his surroundings. It was just as chaotic as Diagon Alley, Harry mused.

A scarlet steam train was waiting by a platform while students boarded it with their trunks and waving goodbye to their parents behind them. People were pressed against each other, exclaiming one thing or the other to their children. Animals made raucous noises alongside their human owners. Owls hooted to each other; cats were hissing and snarling from their cages; and toads croaked deeply in their pens.

Curiously, Harry looked behind him. The solid wall barrier was still there, decorated by an iron archway and a sign overhead saying _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_. He turned his gaze back forward and pursed his lips, pushing his cart towards the crowd. He glanced briefly at the first few carriages. It was already full of students, some even poking out the windows to continue their goodbyes. Unbidden, Harry continued his search for an emptier carriage.

He passed by a round-faced boy talking with his grandmother.

"I lost my toad again, Gran," the boy glumly said to her.

"Oh, Neville," she replied exasperatedly.

Further ahead, Harry saw a small crowd of students surrounding a young boy with dreadlocks, who was carrying a box.

One in the crowd exclaimed, "Give us a look, Lee! Come on!"

The boy lifted the lid off the box and some gave a shriek of terror when a hairy leg poked out. The boy then laughed boisterously, closing the box before whatever was inside could poke out more than its leg.

Harry finally found an empty carriage. He put Hedwig's cage in first before heaving his trunk onto it. He then went into the first empty compartment he found and put his stuff in. Away from prying eyes, Harry was free to use the Force to put the trunk away to a corner of the compartment. When it was done, he fell to the seat with a sigh. "That was tiring," he said. He turned to Hedwig and continued, "I think it'll be a tough fight, getting used to the amount of life and energy the Wizarding world has."

Hedwig hooted softly, making Harry smile.

Harry opened the cage and reached into it to stroke her head. "Thanks, girl," he said. Dimly, he could still hear the shouts and exclamations the students exchanged with their parents either as they boarded the train or after they boarded and found a compartment to settle into. Sighing again, Harry pulled back his hand and closed his eyes, falling into a brief meditation while the train was still stopped at the platform.

Half an hour later, Harry felt the train rumble and shudder. He opened his eyes and looked out the window; the train had started and was moving. At first, it was a slow crawl but it slowly gained speed as it turned a corner and left the station.

_It's official_, Harry thought to himself. _I'm taking a train and on my way to a magic school_. He grinned wide. _I can't wait!_

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